


Avatar Evera: Saint of the Sands

by AimHalleGately



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Avatar Cycle, Avatar State, Ba Sing Se, Bending (Avatar), Earth Kingdom (Avatar), F/F, F/M, Gen, Korrasami is Canon, Married Korra/Asami Sato, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Post-Avatar: The Legend of Korra, Sandbending, Spirit World (Avatar), The Dai Li (Avatar)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25382926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AimHalleGately/pseuds/AimHalleGately
Summary: Did Korra pass away while in the Avatar state? Is that why the sages never found the new Avatar? Are the rumors about Korra and Asami true...did the Spirits grant them a child? Who is trying to steal the Ba Sing Se elections? Who is the Spirit of Time?Taking place 20 years after the mysterious death of Avatar Korra, Avatar Evera: Saint of the Sands follows Evera, an elite sandbender hailing from the Si Wong desert tribes. Raised in a strict secular household that held Sandbending above all other elements, Evera was always taught that life outside their sandbending commune is one filled with fear and sin. Despite her family's wishes, Evera moved away to the big city of Ba Sing Se in order to expand her Earthbending skills and fulfill her dream of becoming a Dai Li agent. Now one of the best agents on the undercover force, her suppressed Avatar spirit is violently awakening. Should she hide it? Is Korra trying to tell her something? Follow Evera on her Avatar journey as she discovers herself, her past, and her destiny.--- New chapter every week! ----
Relationships: Korra/Asami Sato
Comments: 24
Kudos: 48





	1. (PROLOGUE)

PROLOGUE

Although there were no witnesses, the rumors of Avatar Korra's demise were marred with heartbreak and hopelessness; They say that Korra had died while she was in the Avatar state. If true, this would have broken the Avatar cycle forever. Temple monks and spirit priests from all over the world were all in disagreement about the ending of the cycle, with only few believers holding onto hope that Raavaa truly did get reincarnated into a new body; the body of an Earthbender. Although an intense search was held in nations far and wide, no such bender was ever found, which only fueled these rumors about the cycle being broken- and even some of the most patient students of the spirit world were beginning to lose hope in finding the new Avatar.

There were lots of mysteries about Avatar Korra that only lived in the whispers between the kingdoms, hushed words in Republic City's sleepy cafes of her lost last years. There was talk of how Korra and the love of her life, Asami Sato, spent months at a time in the Spirit World. There were myths that the couple begged the Spirits to grant them a lovechild. When friends of Korra and Asami came forward to help in the quest to search for the new Avatar (Masters Jinora and Ikki, Chairman Bolin and his daughter Talla BeiFong), they all declined to comment.

Taking place 20 years after the tragic death of Avatar Korra, Avatar Evera: Saint of the Sands follows our hero Evera, an elite sandbender hailing from the Si Wong desert tribes. Raised in a strict religious household that held Sandbending above all other elements, Evera was always taught that only sandbending is pure in the eyes of her tribe and the desert spirits. But Evera wanted more out of her life and had bigger dreams. Despite her family's wishes (and her paralyzing anxiety), Evera moved away to the big city of Ba Sing Se in order to expand her Earthbending skills and fulfill her dream of becoming a Dai Li agent. Now one of the best fighters on the undercover force, the Dai Li have assigned her to investigate a new terrorist threat: The Si Wong Rebels.

As the world tried to evolve without an Avatar, terror and fear was gripping the 4 nations. Crime was up all over the Earth Kingdom, and evil forces were colluding boldly to come into political power, living without the fear of an Avatar to stop them. The search for the Avatar was put on an indefinite pause, as it seemed the rumors of Korra's demise may have been true after all.

What they all didn't realize is that the Avatar spirit DID in fact reincarnate; The new Avatar was born that same moment Korra took her last breath. But the mind is a very powerful thing. Born to a remote tribe of Sandbenders who only taught sandbending, it was all Evera had ever known. Her tribe believed that all other forms of bending were inferior and dangerous, and that all outsiders and visitors to the tribe were not allowed. No one told Evera that she was the Avatar because nobody ever knew, and with her sandbending beliefs ingrained into her, the sand was all she ever believed she could master. It was only when she departed for her Dai Li training that she even begin to explore the other forms of Earthbending.

But little does she know, Evera's suppressed Avatar spirit is about to awaken. She is about to learn that she isn't just an Earthbender; She is the Avatar, and her duty is not to the Dai Li, the Earth Kingdom or to her tribe, but to the world. Should she hide her new discovery? Is Korra trying to tell her something? With the Kingdom facing new upcoming problems including the Si Wong terrorist threat and a plot to steal the upcoming Presidential election, Evera must face these issues while learning the other elements. She must face her own deeper anxieties about her fate, face her fears and prejudices of the other elements that have been ingrained into her from childhood, and uncover her shared history with Korra (not to mention her other past lives!), and understand her place as the new hero to the world.


	2. Desert Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The luscious sands of the Si Wong desert can be a barren and dangerous place, but for the elite Sandbender and Dai-Li agent Evera, she is right at home! Evera is on a top secret mission to infiltrate a rebel terrorist compound out in the Si Wong Desert. Intentionally captured by the two enemy rebels, she knows they will lead her right where she needs to be, and she will use the mastery of her sandbending and the patience of a learned Earthbender to get herself out of harms way. But is something more powerful awakening inside her?

The sands of the Si Wong desert stretch in endless waves, winding in a luscious kingsgold velvet that drowns every root that dares to grow in it’s unforgiving air. Hundreds of miles from the Earth Kingdom’s nearest true settlement, seemingly nothing but the occasional lonely cactus bloom sticks from Si Wong’s skin...and yet, three trails of fresh footsteps are found snaking through the dunes.

The Prisoner trudges along, head conservatively wrapped in a black and silver face-shielding hijab veil. Thick, rusty chains clang along with her, loosely binding her arms and ankles as they push through the sand with each step. Converging at her little neck, the chain forms a long embarrassing leash held by the hands of one of her captors, a Si Wong Rebel, who marches ahead of her in the heat.

The Rebels had certainly made a name for themselves in the Earth Kingdom already; just last week, car bombs had detonated in both central Omashu and at a shopping bazaar just outside of Republic City limits, terrifying the locals and vilifying the press: The SI WONG TERROR! The Sandbender Scum! 

The Prisoner glances over at her captor, noting the rather thin wrists that held her chained leash. Is there a food shortage in their bunkers? Those are surely not the thickened forearms of an earthbender, she ponders.

Beside him rides a round and lanky camelephant, stomping through the sands slowly and carefully with the sway of it’s two-ton weight. Riding it’s hump is another Rebel, bearded and dressed for the sun. He shields his eyes from the relentless glare in hopes to sight the Rebel compound sooner rather than later.

With the approaching sound of an overhead drone, a pair of striped buzzardbees fly past the gang with a FLASH, heading straight ahead towards the seemingly unending horizon. Their campground must be close.

As she watches the two birds disappear into the distance, a familiar feeling suddenly strikes down over our Prisoner. One of prudence. Of satisfaction. She has to make her move now, to continue her mission. And it was either now, or never.

She stops in her tracks, letting her feet plant deep into the familiar sand. The Rebels continue their walk forward, unaware.

The slack on her leashing silver chain begins dancing about as it starts to stretch straighter and straighter, echoing the slight ring of a broken dinner bell. Seven feet, eight feet, nine feet, chiming out like an uncoiling platinum bracelet in the hands of a jeweler’s clumsy child. Unafraid, the Prisoner remains still and solid as she watches it tighten, grounding her stance and bracing her muscles tight, until...

CLANK! 

Confused, the walking Rebel glances back to find the Prisoner stopped dead in her tracks. His brow furrowed with annoyance; shock. He pulls at the chain, at first gently, as if to wake our prisoner from a standing slumber. Still unafraid, she stands her ground and doesn’t move a muscle. The camelephant lumbers on ahead of them.

“Move it, prisoner dog!” He shouts in his native Si Wong tongue, “Move it, or no more water for you!”

She remains still, frozen in the warmth of the sand. Noting the commotion, the bearded Rebel balks his camelephant and calls back to his conspirator.

“What’s the hold up here?” he angrily asks, “We’ll be losing sun soon!”

The first rebel YANKS on the chain again, jerking at the Prisoner’s neck. Still unafraid, she remains solid on her feet, her trust laden in the silks of the earth. She drowns out the sounds of his shouting and draws in a deep breath.

Slowly clenching up her sunburnt hands into a tight fist, the sand beneath her feet flutters awake, like a wolfhound beckoned to the call of it’s name. It begins to gently crawl to the Prisoner’s will, stretching up from it’s bed in the ground to wrap around her little ankles. With another slight squeeze of her knuckles, the sand tightens strongly around her, securing her to the earth like nerves to a spine. The Rebel’s eyes widen.

“You will not want to play these games, little girl.” He tightens his grip on her chain as he shouts, “Move! Or you will regret!” He jarringly YANKS on the chain again, but she does not move. Her eyes lock with his, defiantly. The heat between them rises into the air, the arid open sky watching them with curiosity. “Very well.”

Taking in a shallow breath, the Rebel grunts loudly and throws out his hand to conjure his angry element: A glowing fireball springs out to life on his palm, angry and dancing inside his clawed fingers. His other hand grasps firmly onto the leash, it’s metal chainlinks glowing orange with the conductive heat.

“RAH!” He bowls his arm forward along the length of the chain, sending the fireball whisking down towards the Prisoner in a thunderous rage. Sparking and flaring, it bounces furiously in the blinding heat as it rolls toward her. 

But the Prisoner was unafraid. She watches with the great patience she was taught for the fireball to approach her, and just as the warmth began edging up to her stone-still body...

WHOOSH! The prisoner STOMPS forward with a mighty rumble from the sand. Just inches from her toes, a great and narrow sandstone pillar launches up from the ground with the sound of a dry avalanche. 

SLASH! CLANG! The pillar crashes into the taught chains, breaking her free from his leash. With no more track to follow, the fireball dissipates in the open air with a crisping flash. Watching it dissolve, the Prisoner retakes her Hung Gar stance, the pillar collapsing back into sand and sinking into the ground as a dusty pile. Remnants of the long chains hang from her arms like great silver lassos. 

“You said she wasn’t a bender!” The second Rebel shouts, dismounting from the camelephant, “Get her! Now!”

With a one-two punch, the first Rebel wildly launches more fireballs. Dodging them swiftly, she swings her free arm above her and begins whipping the loose chain over her head. The sand begins to follow, lifting from all around her and swirling up into the current of the spinning chain. 

Continuing an onslaught of fireballs, the Rebel furiously punches them out one by one. To his shock, the fireballs begin curling up into the swirling sand current, only adding a layer of red heat to the growing twister. The sand-filled wind begins BLARING with the sound of a nearing freight train as it gains speed, growing taller and taller until it dwarfs even the prisoner beneath it. Her baggy hijab and hooded silks whip wildly in the wind as her legs remain welded to the ground.

With a great LASH of the chain, the Prisoner sends the sand launching out toward the Rebel in a great whipping tornado, towering over his body and quickly closing in around him. Hands up, eyes focused, she shapes the sandy current from afar with her careful fingers. Currents from faraway dunes begin to join in as she conjures the desert to her will.

He shoots a last-chance blast of his fire up to break the current, but it is no use; the sand encloses him and begins to stick on hot like burning sugar to a pot. Nowhere to run—her sand promptly buries him in a mountain of his own foolish impudence, right up to his chin- leaving him shocked, immobile; gasping for air.

Her eyes spot the bearded Rebel, who ignored his accomplice’s dilemma to take his own fighting stance. His fist raised by his ear, they stand silently in the heat, eyes locked, the sliding beads of sweat as their only common ground.

“You think yourself a brave bitch, don’t you?” He spits with arrogance into the dirt. “I’ll drag you back to the camp by your hair after this. First you try to rob us, and now this foolishness!” 

The prisoner narrows her eyes to study his stance. This was one of the first things taught to her in the early Dai Li training days- to identify the enemy is to identify your victory. It certainly wasn’t a sandbender stance, nor fire bender... 

“GIVE UP! SURRENDER!” He shouts, a nervous string woven in his words now. She sees it now; the shakiness in his knees and the rigidness in his spine...

He was no bender at all!

A flash of heat engulfs her; a feeling of light and warmth and serenity as something SHINES over her eyes. Was it a glare? The blinding desert sun?

Stepping forward to clap her wide arms together, she creates two large dune waves on either side of the bearded Rebel. With the flexing wave of her knuckles, the dunes undulate like an angry ocean and sweep the him right off his feet.

“NO!” 

She does not spare him. He sinks like a rock into this ocean, arms flailing, the consistency suddenly changing to quicksand as he struggles to keep his head above to the air. Crashing and crashing again, the waves of sand bury him as it did his accomplice, as if the moon's tide was pushing and pulling each tiny grain. The Prisoner stands taller and tightens her shoulders, again squeezing her wrists as the Rebel begins to SCREAM for mercy.

“No! Stop! I can’t...move! Stop!” His entire body underneath the dunes current, he desperately looks around only to witness the sand slowly freezing into concrete, locking his body in and rendering him immobile in the dirt, like a fossil in a long forgotten quarry. It had coated his mouth and locked him right up to the bottom of his ears; he could only look around in horror as the storm suddenly...stops. The Prisoner, ending her terrifying onslaught, stumbles out of her stance. A wave of nausea washes over her; her hands find her knees as she attempts to catch her breath; What the hell was that? 

She glances up to see her destruction. The Rebel moans, half in fear, half frustration. Only his eyes and nose were visible now and the whipping sand kept nearing his already coated lashes. The prisoner shrugs; maybe her sandbending is just more powerful out here in the desert, she ponders. She was closer to her home tribe than she had been in years, after all. After all this time on the beat, working the streets of the lower ring of Ba Sing Se, and endless shifts along the palace garden walls, the job had finally brought her so close to her birthplace.

The rebel's peeking eyes follow her as she begins to walk toward him. She steps around his now-mountainous body and carefully approaches the camelephant, who was completely apathetic to the battling as it basked in the sinking afternoon sun. Reaching up into his saddle, she retrieves two jugs of water and removes the veil from her face to reveal: Evera, rookie Dai Li agent and daughter of the desert. Her shining green eyes catch in the lowering Si Wong sun, her toasted olive skin boasting a spray of sunkissed freckles that dot across the bridge of her nose in a familiar constellation. 

Evera’s infiltration mission was only half-over. Now, she thought, comes the hard part.


	3. A Spirit Blessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evera's animal guide, Sencha the sabor-toothed sandcat, catches up with her in the Si Wong Desert. However, she is no ordinary sandcat: She has been blessed by one of the spirits! Evera must continue on her undercover mission to find the Rebel encampment.

The Si Wong sun was sinking quickly in the sky now- Evera’s usually small shadow was beginning to stretch behind her like the train of a black silken gown. The two Si-Wong Rebels, now her listless captives buried in the sand, lay motionless in their mountainous prison, limbs completely frozen, their desperate eyes struggling to follow Evera as she rummages through their camelephant’s hanging saddle.

She wipes the sweat away from her sharpened brow, removing the cap from a full canteen jug to chug some much-needed water. She offers a puddle’s splash to the camelephant, who happily slurps up his share with his unfurling tan trunk. Evera turns back to the Rebels, satisfied with her work. 

**GRRRRRRR!**

A rumbling SNARL calls out in the distance...but from where? The looming dust, not yet settled from Evera’s sandbending assault, was still hanging in the air and casting around like a fine cloud of swampfog, eerily masking the desert in a creepy glow. Again, the snarling, deep growl echoes out from this emptiness:

**GRRRRRRRRRRR!!**

“W-what was that?” A nervous muffle pipes out from the first Rebel as he begins to struggle in his sandpit. “I think it’s a spirit!”

Their terrified eyes try their best to survey the dusty terrain, but can’t see much from their prisons, and the setting glare of the sun certainly wasn’t helping. A primal, predatory fear began washing over them...something was watching. 

“Please, it’ll get me!” The bearded Rebel shouts, “Don’t leave us!” 

Evera chuckles softly as she takes another sip of the water. 

**GRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!**

The Rebels continue to whimper like frightened eel-pups as the noise grows closer, and closer, until...

**GGRRRROWL-ROWLLLLL!!!!!**

An enormous, speckled and blonde-striped saber-toothed sandcat comes LEAPING out from the haze, bellowing out her terrifying and deafening ROAR right in the face of the sunken Rebels. Her body long and powerful, a practiced and pridefully groomed feline from nose to tail. Her teeth are colossal; two feet in length from where they jut down between her heavy jaw, as sharp as swordsman’s steel and twice as thick. Her evil-sounding snarl echoes in the sunset as she bears her angry grin at the men, her elegant and pluming mane twice the size of either Rebel’s skull. The speckle spots on her coat are plentiful and dense, indicating the seemingly many years of adventures, of battles that she’s proudly fought (and won). The Rebels cry out small, puppy-like whines.

“Sencha!” calls Evera from afar, “Come here girl! Who’s my classy lady?” The sandcat glances over to Evera and drops her angry face. She saunters over to her with her tail arched high and happy, Evera’s arms stretch out to stroke her long, elegant mane. “I have it under control, Sencha, it’s okay. I’m always glad to have you watching out for me though, thank you for being such a good little stalker. Who’s a good stalking kitty? You are!” 

Sencha purrs loudly and boops her giant head into Evera’s stomach. As her lifelong companion, she rarely ever left Evera’s side, even on top-secret missions like the one she was on now. The Rebels stare in silent awe at the giant animal, now as docile as a housecat, it’s eyes catching the desert light in a mystical, mysterious way. 

Still digging in their supply bag, Evera retrieves a new set of men’s robes and a fresh headscarf, wrapping it delicately around her small face. The perfect disguise, she thinks as she takes one last sip of water before shielding up her mouth. 

She then retrieves a velvet bag from the saddle, dumping its contents in her hand to reveal her confiscated goods: her long gold hair chain, her bulky silver ring, and her leather belt, the buckle of which donned a carving of the symbol of the Earth kingdom. She puts it all on beneath the robes, and takes great care dusting off the ring before sliding it back on.

“Water, Sencha? We gotta make it last while you babysit, so you know the drill.” The sandcat looks at her knowingly, before performing her tiny miracle: 

Grounded atop the dusty landscape, the enormous sandcat stands as tall as she can...and before the eyes of all the witnesses there & the all-seeing eye of the Si Wong sun, Sencha... begins to shrink! Her mammoth paws, her luscious mane, her predator body; it all starts to shrink down in size as her tall frame lowers closer to the sand. Her whipping tail telescopes down into one-tenth it’s size, with her speckled fur now disappearing into an immature, tan fuzzy coat decored with only a few black blotches; her lean body was now the size of a small bag of gold pieces. Her ferocious saber-teeth sink up into her mouth as two tiny snaggle-fangs, and her ears widen loosely as her face turns from one of a learned adult sandcat...to a tiny sand kitten! 

Evera smiles at her sweet kitty. Blessed (or cursed, perhaps, depending on how one views it) by a Si Wong’s spirit when she was just a newborn cub, Sencha could will herself from cat to kitten with only a single thought. 

The nearby Rebels stare in bewilderment as tiny kitten Sencha starts lapping up the water Evera pours for her. In kitten form, her tiny stomach can stay full for much longer, and she doesn’t require nearly as much to quench her thirst.

“Now you three be good!” Evera mounts the camelephant and weaves the reins between her fingers. “Sencha here will dig you out two hours after sunset, won’t you girl?”

Sencha tries to roar out, but only a tiny “mew” projects from her petite little lungs as she faces both the buried men. 

“Don’t let that cute face fool you. Any funny business, and she’ll turn right back into big momma, and those teeth will be the last thing you see.” Sencha bares her jaws in an attempt to be scary, her little snaggleteeth snarling up as she lets out another precious “mew”. Evera signals the camelephant, and it begins to lumber forward into the sands.

* * *

The sun’s nearly disappearing in the distance, the slight chills of the night air approaching her exposed fingers as they grip the stolen camelephant’s reins. Evera knows that the campground couldn’t be too far off; after only a few minutes of riding, she began to smell the aroma of a distant charcoal smoke, perhaps of a smoke signal or a large buffadillo feast. And she was right-- after only one more mile west, she spots something glowing in the distance. It was the firelights of the Rebel base encampment, lanterns dotting on like the streetlights of the Lower Ring after dark.

And it was perfect timing—the smoke she had seen before was clearly double-trailed, which means it was definitely coming from the encampment’s prayer house. Each time the sun rises and sets, all who believed they were “children of the sand” would come together to pray to the desert spirits. No doubt would the majority of the Rebels be gathered in there to give thanks to the Si Wong spirits, the spirits of Time and Sand. 

Nearing the encampment, it’s large bunker boarder is in full view now, and there’s no one even standing guard. Even security wouldn’t miss their time to pray. Either way, Evera wasn’t going to cut corners; she could still hear the Dai Li masters voice inside her head: Take every precaution when behind enemy lines.

Approaching the sandstone walls of the base, she spots a herd of camelephant tied up by a watering trough. There was no one else around.

“Thank you, stranger.” Evera whispers to her animal friend, “You’ve done well.” She hops off it’s hump to gently fall to the sand below, leading the leash over to the rest of the heard. She readjusts the large silver ring on her finger, glancing around the front door of the enemy. It’s sealed for the night, though only secure with some locksmith earthbending. She approaches the adjacent sandstone wall, inspecting it closely, intensely feeling it’s textured grit, still warm from the day’s sun. 

She holds her ear up to the wall. She can hear the sound of a high priest gently chanting in the Si Wong tongue. With one last glance around her to ensure she was alone, she swings her arm outward, gripping her feet into the sand below:

POW!

Evera throws a clawed hand into the wall, activating her newly fine-tuned seismic senses. The echoes inside the encampment tremor in great waves, reflecting instantly back with all the creatures inside: 

She can see the prayer house, just on the other side of the wall, with all of it’s congregants inside. Just about all of the Rebels were in there, ghostly outlines kneeling in prayer, as a priestly figure up front lead the session. She could feel the far portion of the camp, where a few guards were walking about between some barracks, and a few were sleeping in nearby bunks. One figure, she could just barely make out, was inside a strange maze of a building. He’s sitting among a fleet of...boxes? Supplies, perhaps? She needed to get a closer look.

Aiming her silver “ring” around at the entrance, Evera activates a small button on it’s shining backside near her palm. Click! The ring, a discrete, tiny digital camera, begins to shutter softly with each photo. Evera begins following back along the wall, aiming to get as close to this mysterious maze building as the boarder could reach.

Looking around again, the coast is clear and the lamplights aren’t touching her. With a quick motion of her wrists, Evera RIPS open a deep hole in the sand, right along the bottom edge of the wall. She takes one more glance around before diving in, feet first.


	4. The Sacred Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evera breaks into the Si Wong Rebel compound to complete her recon mission, but she begins having strange and scary visions! She later meets a very mysterious metalbender who works with computers.

Silence...until a sinking hole RIPS open into a solid concrete floor. After a moment of observant stillness to surveil the room, Evera climbs out from the tunnel, shaking off any excess sand trapped between the folds of her robe. She finds herself surrounded by many crates and boxes, labeled with many different foods: Rice, Potatoes, Cornmeal, Flour, various vegetables and fruits. Evera scrapes one of the larger boxes over, discretely covering her escape route. She adjusts her discrete camera ring again, snapping some more photos of the room as she walks around carefully. 

“The new shipment should be here, I think the new recruits brought them back here earlier.” A deep voice calls from a nearby hallway. A flash of dread washes over Evera, but nothing too surprising; She just needs to hide.

Thinking fast, she dives deep into a nearby oversized box labeled “PEACHES”. Mountains of the fruit surround her as she sinks among their fuzzy skins.

Two armored Si-Wong Rebels enter the room, hunting around for something. They kick boxes out of their way and rearrange some of the crates.

“Ugh, I don’t see them.” One Rebel mutters out in frustration, “Let’s go see if Li brought them to the barracks or something.”

The second Rebel, a larger potbelly squeezing tight in his undersized robes, begins picking into a box labeled “CHERRIES”.

“Cut it out, fatass! Dinner comes after prayer,” the first Rebel grumbles again, “and before dessert.”

“It’s not for me!” The chubby Rebel replies meekly, “Our guy in there says he won’t work until he eats.”

“He’ll work hungry or he’ll die hungry!” The two Rebels laugh, their voices echoing less and less as they exit the room to go back down the outer hallway. Evera listens closely, surrounded by the pinkish hue of the peaches, finally hearing the sound of a door shutting. She concentrates on their steps as they move away from the building, just to be sure.

Attempting to maintain her stillness among the fruit, a lone peach comes tumbling from behind her, rolling down right into the palm of Evera’s hand. Her eyes perk up at the sight of its youthful, orange glow. There was something so familiar about it; it’s soft woolen skin, the swirl of burgundy reds curling around its side. It’s captivating...but why? She softly brings the peach up to her face, gently pulling her headscarf out of the way to give it a little sniff.

FLASH! Evera’s eyes ALIGHT with a sudden brightness, the wind knocking violently out of her lungs as her eyes fill with a blinding light. She recoils in horror, the sound of a roaring train filling her ears as she throws her arms up to brace for this invisible enemy.

Her vision loses focus from the room, still filled with its ominous glow. Is she being attacked? Is it an angry spirit? Is she passing out? The bold light before her eyes begins to churn into a swirl of colors before forming a strange collage of VISIONS:

She see’s the peach...now held in the hand of a strikingly beautiful black-haired woman. She’s looking right at her with such an electric tenacity, her green eyes shining, her dark curling tresses flowing back as she smiles with absolute glee. Her beauty was stunning, showstopping, and yet...somewhat familiar. The stranger takes a juicy bite, the flesh of the peach breaking into her mouth with the grace of an earthly goddess.

A voice booms out: “You must BOTH eat from the sacred fruit. You must BOTH taste the flesh born from its center seed. Only then will you be blessed with the secret.”

The mysterious brunette holds the bitten peach back out to her, just before...

FLASH! Another vision—it is a Spirit portal, glowing in all it’s might, dancing spirits flying about its unending golden beam up into the cosmos.

FLASH! What is happening? A wave of nausea washes over Evera, but her eyes cannot find their focus. More strange images begin flashing rapidly before her eyes: 

A slew of ice shards dancing about a room with the flow of an invisible wind,

A pair of tall concrete pillars overlooking a barren desert,

A glitching screen, streaming and flashing over a computer monitor,

A pair of gentle hands, being wrapped in fire-red tape,

A fleet of Airbenders, in an arrow formation among the skies,

And a glowing pair of eyes that were not her own.

CRASH! Evera falls out of her hiding spot, peaches spilling out all around her. Her breathing was mounting, her heart pounding, her head spinning; She grabs hold of the nearby wall to ease herself up slowly. 

Her eyes find her hands...Has this strange sickness followed her on the job as she had feared? These blackouts that she’s been dealing with only started a week ago, but this one was different. This time, she saw things. 

Carefully exploring the room again, she places her hand back up to the wall and grounds her stance for a moment of stillness. A patch of the wall melts into wet cement and she digs her watchful fingers in for a listen. Thank goodness, no one is coming. 

In fact, if her fingers are telling the truth, there are no longer any guards inside this maze at all to come blow her cover. But, there’s still one lanky figure nearby, the one she had detected earlier from outside the encampment wall. She can tell now that he’s wearing no armor, and has no weapons, which is a strange finding at a Si Wong Rebel base. And this defenseless figure was close, right down the hall in the adjacent room. 

Carefully stepping around the mess she’s made, Evera reaches down and grabs one of the loose peaches at her feet. It all started with the scent of this peach, she wonders. She tucks the fruit inside the pocket of her robe as she heads out the door down the hall.

Bare, concrete walls and a simple dirt floor line the hallway, making it easy for Evera to find her way. She continues snapping photos from her ring cam, before happening upon a large glass window up ahead. A dim blue light from inside the glass seems to be shining out, a sealed door and window gate beside it encased in a shining metal plating.

Carefully approaching and peering into the window, Evera’s eyes fall on a fleet of large computer monitors, all brightly switched on to a simple desktop screen. There must be over two-dozen monitors, with three large televisions mounted on the room’s far wall. Racks of hard drives line the cap of each row. She quickly snaps some photos of this discovery.

Suddenly, a man rises from a kneeling position on the floor; it’s the unarmed figure she sensed before. 

His narrow arms coil up a large cable up from the floor, a shoulder-length mop of white hair hanging down from his gaunt, pale face. But, he does not react to her. Evera runs an inquisitive, silent finger along her side of the glass for inspection; it’s a two-way mirror. It’s mounted on the same kind of thick metal framing on the wall.

Evera stands frozen in place. He sure doesn’t look like the rest of the rebels; he looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in months. If he’s a private contractor, wouldn’t he at least get some armor? Is he a prisoner?

Evera finds her footing in the dirt and attempts to bend apart the bracing of the window: nothing. She aims her closed fists at the metal door and tries the same move, clasping her fists together in an attempt to “pull” at the door’s hinges. It doesn’t move an inch. It must be platinum. 

Inspecting the wall again, she finds the small food gate leading to this mysterious computer lab. It has a simple sliding stone for its window. How strange; does this man live in the lab? She’s unsure whether or not to pity him; he could just as well be a collaborator. Besides, she can’t get through this platinum if she tried...and this is supposed to be a recon-only mission. Although, he does look pretty hungry.

Pulling out the lone peach from her pocket, she carefully places it on the counter of the food gate and gives the window a hearty KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK. 

The man’s head swings over to look at his side of the gate; Evera bends it a few inches open, rolling the peach through to the other side of it’s shared counter before quickly bending the gate back up. The man, seemingly startled, walks tentatively over to the fruit, examining the two-way mirror first...before grabbing it and devouring it like a rabid wolfbat. His teeth rip into juicy flesh, suckling and licking even at the pit, as if it was the last remaining peach in the four nations.

Once finished licking all ten fingers, the man brushes his hands off on his dirty cotton shirt, walking back to the center of the computer corral. He kneels down again, but this time Evera can still see him; his hands find a metal computer tower linked to a nearby monitor, it’s safelight blinking slowly with the life of the internet. 

He cracks his knuckles, now flexing his hands in an oddly familiar way; pinkies and ring fingers pointed in, thumbs placed evenly apart; it slightly resembles a metelbending technique that Evera has seen the elder Agents of the Dai Li perform while sparring with one another. But never like this, never kneeling down in such an ungrounded way.

His hands press fully down on the computer tower, and behind him, its connected monitor SHINES on to a bright blue screen. A curser on the screen begins blinking wildly as he continues to work his hands over the tower, the monitor beginning to sporadically flash up it’s blue hue into the man’s pallid face. Letters and numbers and symbols begin typing out rapidly on the screen and streaming upward, faster and faster as the other corners of the display begin to pixelize and blink, glitching wildly with long strings of numerical code. 

Evera gasps; Her vision! She saw this! How can this be?

Fighting a new disbelieving shake in her hands, Evera snaps some more pictures of this strange phenomenon, of this strange man as he continues to uniquely “hack” into the computer. 

Beneath the dirt floor, she begins to feel the tremor of footsteps from outside the building. Suddenly, she feels the shake of a distant door opening into the outer portion of the maze. She kneels down to get a better feel of the earth below.

Time to go! 

Putting her racing mind aside, Evera darts off back down the hallway, right back into the food storage room where she had originally burrowed in. She’s going to be a little early at Sencha’s rendezvous point, but that was fine. A moment alone is probably a good thing, she thinks to herself...there must be a rational explanation for all of this. 

Reaching her tunneled spot, she shoves the concealing box out of the way, diving back down into the sandy darkness feet first. And with a quiet clap of her palms together, she wastes no time to cleanly close up the hole above her. It seals the concrete floor seamlessly, like the professional ghost that she is.


	5. Return to Ba Sing Se / Tuvo's Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evera flies from the Si Wong Desert back to Ba Sing Se, where she lives in the Middle Ring, and we learn a little more about the changes that have occurred in the city since the time of Avatar Korra. Evera then speaks with her Dai Li boss, Tuvo, about how her undercover mission went. More of Evera's Avatar powers are coming out, and she can't stop them!

Upon the tiny Dai Li airship, the sunrise view is breathtaking. Evera rests her hands upon the small railing, overlooking a giant glass window as she watches the sun cast freshly over the silky, barren land. Sencha, in her small kitten form, sits dutifully upon the windowsill, carefully watching the rolling sands of the Si Wong desert as it passes below them. Though they were up all night camping in the outskirts of the desert after Evera escaped the Rebel compound, their extraction had gone perfectly. 

She peers down at her hands as intrusive thoughts begin boiling up to the surface. What were those visions that she had seen inside the compound? What is it about the peach that triggered them? She can still remember the feel of the peach’s soft fuzzy skin gripping to her hand, and the absolutely breathtaking black-haired woman in her vision. It’s as if she already knew everything about her; her cheerful, sly smile, the bounce of her curling hair...

The sounds of blasting fire startle her from the window; peering over to the open-room cockpit, she watches the airship’s pilot blast a few fireballs into the open fuel container. With the airship running on natural gas (which is actually mined prominently right below them in Si Wong territory), the ship only needs a few boosts of fire along its journey to ignite the delicate fuel lines and power all of its cylinders. Studying his clothes, Evera can tell that the pilot is just a Dai Li trainee; a glorified page intern who the higher-ups keep around for the type of tasks that Earthbenders cannot do themselves. He’s flying like a pro, she thinks.

While Evera’s always thought that it was a good thing to include all nations into the Dai Li, she still can’t help but feel a bit funny about it. It made sense; if this boy was born in the Earth Kingdom and wants to dedicate himself to the Dai Li, that’s a very noble cause. But Evera still can’t quite shake away the uneasy feelings she has about all Firebenders. She remembers the sardonic words of her father: “Those dumb hotheaded brutes!”

She watches him blast more fire into the engine skillfully, the flames curling masterfully into the thick metal ducts. Her father would always tell her stories of firebenders being war hungry and angry all the time, yet Evera had never met a single one in person until she moved to Ba Sing Se a few years ago. While they all seem very kind, Evera usually has to fight to quell the rude words of her father from sticking to her. The pilot sees her watching and gives a kind smile. She smiles back.

“Only about ten minutes from the outer wall, ma’am.” He says respectfully, “I have instructions to bring you right to HQ to brief Master Tuvo.”

Oh Tuvo, she thinks, recalling the militant demeanor of her elder Dai Li mentor and all-around boss. He’s such a serious, gruff man, a veteran with almost 20 years in the Agency serving the city. He had taken a liking to Evera from the moment she enlisted, and Evera never exactly understood why...maybe it’s because he’s always up for a challenge. Of course he wants a briefing first; no time for Evera to catch up on sleep or shower off the day’s dirt (or sand, in this case). 

Before long, just after the ship passes over the narrow divide of the Serpent’s Pass, the great Outer Wall of Ba Sing Se comes into view. It snakes powerfully between the dusty outskirts of the city limits and the great plains of the fertile Earth Kingdom farmlands. Passing over the Outer Wall, the farms begin to stretch directly below them, and Evera can almost trace the perfect squares of crops with her finger. Nearing the Lower Ring now, they meander above the wild sounds (and smells) of Avatar Aang Zoo, the one that Aang had famously created on a whim when he was just a boy visiting the city. Evera can almost see the rabaroos happily hopping along the fresh meadows of tall blonde grass.

Soon they were passing over the Lower Ring itself, as buzzing and crowded as ever. It still has the highest crime rate in the city, but when King Wu began allowing democratic elections in each ring, there was suddenly elected officials fighting for their neighborhood and making positive changes. However, it often still suffers from the economical issues that had plagued it for generations. Evera wonders if her favorite noodle shop, Fu’s, (a famous staple of the Lower Ring) would be open this early. Evera learned early on that the Lower Ring always has the best noodles.

With the airship passing over from the Lower Ring into the Middle Ring, Evera’s eyes fall on the decomposed remains of its towering divider wall, which fell during the Red Lotus Riots. When Ghazan the lavabender tore down this wall, he only took a small section of it, but he forever damaged the stability of it’s entire perimeter (and the stability of the entire city, for that matter!). Large sections of the wall had to be demolished and rebuilt, forcing families on both sides to relocate miles away during construction. It was a problem that the incoming President would have to inherit after the elections. A few decades ago, large red curtains were raised in certain sections of the missing wall to keep the divide between the rings, but it’s deep red color often reminds elder city folk of the lava that had destroyed it in the first place. 

The ship passes over Evera’s apartment complex, where she wishes so badly they could just stop so her and Sencha could get some sleep. She can feel herself growing grouchy and didn’t want to lose composure in front of Tuvo. 

Before long, they were flying into the Upper Ring, where the beautiful jade sculptures and elegant architecture line the perfectly paved streets. The Firebending pilot begins pulling the landing levers and cords, dropping the ship down slowly. A large stone building comes into view as they head for the ground, its tall blackstone pillars casting an air of historic grace and mystery. It was the Dai Li Headquarters, not more then one block away from the parliamentary Palace. It was time to talk to Tuvo, and she was going to make it as quick as possible. 

* * * *

“They are definitely a lot more organized then I originally thought; they have a hierarchy in place where new recruits are out scouting and more experienced Rebels are inside the encampment. I was able to get myself captured by them without raising suspicion, and then easily overtook them once I knew where the compound was.” Evera explains herself as thoroughly as possible, hoping to get all the details out while she can still remember. She rubs at her eyes, puffy from the lack of sleep, sitting slightly slumping in a wooden chair inside the large private office of her boss, Master Tuvo.

A bearded, intimidating looking man, Tuvo sits with his arms crossed behind his large marble desk. He sips at his tea mug, filled with a strong black tea, a Dai Li symbol plastered across its ceramic coating. He is a tall, statuesque earthbender, broad shouldered and athletic, looking down to Evera even while seated at his deskchair.

“Did they see your face?” He asks sternly, noticing her Dai Li dress code was unaccounted for. He is not use to seeing his agents without their conical hats.

“No they did not sir,” Evera assures him, “I got my hands on one of their robe wraps and a hijab. But something was odd. The Rebels who captured me, they weren’t Earthbenders.”

“They weren’t?”

“No. One was a Firebender, and the other wasn’t a bender at all.” Evera thinks back to the men who she had buried in the sand. “I wasn’t expecting that at all. But it sure made it easy for me to kick their asses.”

Tuvo rolls his eyes at her crass language. “That is strange,” he begins, “That means they’re radicalizing people from other nations. I wonder how they’re pulling that off.” He takes another sip of his strong black tea. Evera watches and longs for a sip.

Maybe it’s easy for a Firebender to act radical, Evera thinks, before trying to shake the horrible thought away. She can’t let these prejudice thoughts blind her—she didn’t even have any close Firebender friends, she cannot judge them. 

She sits back in her chair, her mind wandering once again to those strange visions. She purses her lips; should she tell Tuvo about them?

No. He may think that she’s unwell, and take her off the task force. She keeps it to herself. 

“My most important finding, I believe, was this man I saw inside the encampment.” Evera continues, “He wasn’t a Rebel, I’m pretty sure he was a prisoner. But he wasn’t exactly being kept in a normal cell. It was a computer lab, with dozens of monitors and drives. And he was metalbending one of the computers.” Tuvo perks up at this.

“What? What did he look like?”

“He was rail thin, older, maybe in his 50s? He had long, shoulder-length white hair, looked like he hadn’t showered in a fortnight.” Evera attempts to position her fingers in the same way the man had along the computer tower. “He was doing something to the computer, activating the files somehow. I took recon photos on my ring, I can send them to you when I write up the full report.”

Tuvo’s hand strokes his beard in thought.

“Incredible,” He says, “That just might be the infamous computer hacker, Lo-Son Jae. He’s still wanted for the theft of classified files from the Military servers in Omashu, and Secretary Hilan has been on the hunt for him for ages since he leaked her personal schedule to the press.”

“Oh wow, I remember that,” Evera nods, “I never knew what Lo-Son Jae looked like, I could only picture that weird mask that his followers wear. What I really remember is when the press took Secretary Hilan on a bad ride for weeks about those leaks.” She stops in thought. “But wasn’t it kinda justified? I thought the schedule showed that she was having secret meetings with rich donors in the Fire Nation.” 

Tuvo scoffs.

“Yes, that may be true. But leaking classified files is against the law, and no one knew how he got access to them. They were personal, encrypted files.” Evera thinks back to the way he hovered his hands over the computer tower. 

“He was definitely doing some kind of metalbending at it,” Evera holds her hands up again, “maybe he was trying to open up the casing, to get into memory core of the computer?” Evera thinks back... The tower Lo-Son Jae was kneeling over was intact, not one wire exposed. “I wanted to rescue him, I really think they’re keeping him as a prisoner.”

“No, you made the right call. You must be resilient on these recon missions, Evera,” Tuvo gently scolds, “Recon means you are a ghost, a spirit in the wall. He didn’t see your face, right?”

“No, Sir, he did not.” Evera holds her head down. She hates when Tuvo gives speeches to her about the importance of ‘being an invisible spirit’ while on these missions. 

SCRATCH-SCRATCH! A scraping sound echoes behind the door of Tuvo’s office. The duo look to the door in alarm.

“Oh don’t worry,” Evera says, rising from her chair, “That’s just Sencha.” She opens the door and lets the large adult cat slink in, it’s saber teeth shining, shoulder blades arching with each step. Evera reaches down and strokes at her large mane. “She’s just wondering when she gets to sleep in her own bed.”

“What?” Tuvo says, his voice tinged with a hint of irritation, “Sencha was with you in the desert?”

Oops... Evera forgot to clear that part with her boss before she departed for the trip.

“Well, yes,” Evera starts, “But I needed her, she helped me escape from the Rebels when I broke away from them.”

“Are you joking?!” Tuvo began, his voice growing louder, “So they saw your magical age-defying sandcat? You can’t be serious!”

“Well, sir, she was a really big help, and-“

“You should KNOW better, Evera!” Tuvo shouts, “Don’t you think it’s a huge liability that they saw her? How many time-bending sandcats do they think exists in the world?”

Evera stands her ground. “Sir with all do respect, Sencha is my guardian. I know you don’t like it when she comes on these missions, but-“

“No buts!” Tuvo grumbles, “She could have jeopardized this mission and blown your cover! If they found out you were Dai Li, you could have been captured, or killed!”

Evera could feel her own anger brewing; she admired Tuvo, but he was pretty stringent about his zero-tolerance policy on breaking Dai Li protocol. 

“Sir,” she begins again, “She wasn’t a threat, she was extremely helpful. If anything, they’ll just think that they saw a desert spirit, or a mirage, or-”

SLAM! Tuvo’s fists hit the desk. 

“No!” Tuvo shouts, “You are the one who has to be the spirit, as in completely under cover. You must leave no trace or hint of your identity anywhere. I know you’re smarter then this, Evera.”

Evera grits her teeth in frustration. She sighs heavily, attempting to diffuse her own temper, but it’s no use. 

“I want you to think about what it means to be an undercover Dai Li Agent,” Tuvo continues with arrogance, bringing his tea back up to his mouth for a sip, “You of all people should understand how delicate these missions are.”

While he takes a long drink of his tea, Evera grips her hands into two closed fists, nearly shaking as she tries to hold them down at her side. Sencha looks confused, her massive ears forward, her eyes darting back and forth between the two agents. 

Evera’s anger flashes again; How could he be so smug, she thinks, drinking that tea while giving her yet another lecture! With the clasping of her fingers, she focuses this anger on his overbrewed tea, it’s bitter smell again making her long for sleep. And suddenly, without warning, her anger passes...gently, like the soft, faint sound of a frozen lake. Tuvo’s eyes suddenly grow wide.

“I know what I did was outside of protocol,” Evera starts, “And I mean no disrespect, Sir, you know that. But Sencha is only here for my protection.” She pauses for a moment as Tuvo continues drinking. His eyes are still wide. “She can be a real asset in the field. I know you’re not too fond of animals, but I don’t like leaving her behind, she’s my special little buddy and my oldest friend.” 

Tuvo remains silent. She continues-“I’m not gonna stop bringing her. But next time, I promise to give you a heads up beforehand.”

She looks up to him. The mug is still up to his face. Why isn’t he responding?

“Sir?” Evera’s eyes narrow as she takes a few steps closer to his desk. “Are you alright Sir?” Tuvo attempts to pull his face away from the mug, **but he can not.** He begins to struggle, Evera begins to panic.

She steps around to the side of his desk; Tuvo begins yanking on the mug, only to find it **completely frozen to his lips.**

She sees it now: The water in Tuvo’s cup had **frozen solid** , freezing his mouth in the tea. He pulls and pulls at the mug to no avail, a terrified expression over his eyes, unable to let go without the weight of the mug pulling down on his tongue.

What the hell?! Evera looks at her hands... _did she do that?_

“Don’t panic Sir!” Evera grabs Tuvo’s arm and begins to YANK. He groans in pain, strands from his beard pulling in the ice. 

“MMMM MMMM!” Tuvo mumbles, gripping his chair with his free hand.

YANK! With one more hard TUG from Tuvo’s arm, the mug comes FLYING off of his lips and crashes onto his desk. It lands upside-down on a pile of papers.

“Oww...” he moans, lifting his hand up to cradle his sore mouth.

The duo stand in stunned silence for a moment, panting from the panic, Evera’s mouth hanging agape. Tuvo looks at her quizzically, before reaching down to the mug. He lifts it upward, giving it a slight shake. An unbroken cylinder of jet-black, frozen solid tea comes sliiiiiiding out, landing with a THUD onto the desk in one large chunk. They can see the teabag jutting from the ice like a small paper glacier.

His eyes and Evera’s meet.

“I guess I needed some fresh water.” He finally says. 

Evera backs up, slowly, to the door. Her heart begins racing, her mind exploding with an onslaught of scary intrusive thoughts. Did she do that? Did she freeze it? How did she do that? How? Why?

“I need to go home, Sir,” She says with shaking words, “I need sleep. I think I’m hallucinating, and I just need some sleep.” She motions for her sandcat to follow her and grabs at the door. “I’ll be here bright at early tomorrow with my report. Sorry again about Sencha. Sir.”

She bows quickly and runs out, slamming the door behind her. Tuvo is left alone in his office, staring at the still-frozen chunk of tea on his desk. He pokes at it with a pen, gently; it’s absolutely frozen solid. He thinks hard, his hand back up to stroke his beard...did Evera do this?

CHUNK! He stabs the frozen tea with the pen, holding it upward like a frozen treat on a stick. He gives it a lick, still lost in thought.


	6. Woman in the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evera has a vision of a pregnant Asami! But more importantly, she is realizing that she really could be the new Avatar, even though she doesn't know very much about the Avatar spirit at all. Should she keep it a secret? Evera then goes home to her apartment in the Middle Ring and talks with her roommate, Song, the daughter of Airbender General Meelo.

Evera dashes from the large office halls into the bathroom, Sencha trotting close behind her. The Dai Li certainly spared no expense for their headquarters, even in their restrooms- the floor is lined with a swirling white marble tile, the walls dotted with large, cascading oval mirrors above the column sinks. It’s too early for anyone else to be in the office, she thinks, panting as she approaches one of the faucets. She faces herself in the mirror, gripping either side of the sink.

Her angular, tanned face is still creased with Si Wong dirt, her eyes still puffy and tender from the lack of sleep. Her panicked expression matches her runaway thoughts-- Why did Tuvo’s tea freeze like that? Maybe she’s just dehydrated... She turns on the faucet, the water pouring out with the strong pressure that the Upper Ring could always be faithful for. She cups a handful, splashing her face again and again until the drips from her face run clean. She takes another handful, slurping it up hastily to her lips.

Her eyes catch the faucet’s falling water again. It entrances her... the falling stream, the sound of the rushing current as it hits the fine porcelain drain...

FLASH! Evera’s eyes LIGHT UP, again filling with a blinding glow that envelops her vision. The brightness of the flash is replaced, by **yet another vision:**

Evera can still hear the sound of the running water—but looking up, she sees a beautiful, colossal waterfall, 60 feet tall, with a high cliffside up at it’s very top. It’s so serene; beautiful purple and green ivy bushes climb along either side of the shale, a fine vapor mist filling the air where the water crashes into a massive lake before her. The rushing water sound grows more and more powerful as she watches, realizing that the lake expands a good 50 feet further in front of her. The sky is a swirling sunset pink; her feet suddenly feeling heavy as they stand on the edge of a patch of grass.

She looks down; she’s wearing very large, very padded winter boots. How odd; she’s never seen boots like these in her whole life. Looking up to the waterfall again, she can just barely make out a figure bathing in the mist of the waterfall. It was indeed a shapely woman; nude and reaching for the falls to scrub at her shoulders, the mist delicately covering her modesty. As the figure turns to her side, her long, dark hair swings with the fullness of the water, and Evera’s eyes fall on her very pregnant belly.

Evera again casts her eyes down into the lake. Lifting her hand with her first two fingers outstretched, a small patch of the lakeside suddenly **freezes** before her eyes. And there, in the fresh ice, her own clear reflection: but she does not see the green eyes of her Sand-born tribal blood, nor her sunkissed freckled cheeks; **it is the face of Avatar Korra staring back at her** , her beautiful turquoise eyes shining, her deep, water tribe complexion glowing with delight.

FLASH! Evera grips hard onto the sink; she’s back in the bathroom, heart pounding, hyperventilating. Looking to the mirror, it is her own reflection staring back at her once again. The water is still running. She barely recognizes herself.

Her mind races.

Is it possible? Could she be...?

She feels a gentle push on her knees as Sencha boops into her, chirping loudly with concern. 

She needs to get out of here. She needs to go home.

* * * * * 

Boarding the light rail train in the Upper Ring station, Evera moves quickly to find a seat among the crowd of commuters. She raises her hood up; she for sure doesn’t want to draw any attention. Kitten Sencha rides delicately around her shoulders like a tired mink scarf.

As the train begins pulling away South down toward the Middle Ring, Evera buries her head into her hands. This couldn’t be possible... seeing visions of Korra, of the Spirit World, and what she did to Tuvo’s tea... she did that, she froze it. There is no other explanation.

The train passes through the last section of the Upper Ring, where a mighty bronze statue of a young Avatar Korra stands proudly by a lily garden. Some tourists on the train gather at the window, snapping photos with their cell phones as they pass.

Her bronzed eyes meet Evera’s through the glass. Although she admittedly didn’t know too much about Avatar Korra, she of course knew _who_ she was. Everybody did; even the kids in her tribe back home in the Desert would tell stories about her adventures, though the Elders sure didn’t like it. The Elder Priests, namely her father, would often compare the Avatar to a false idol; a deviant and a distraction from their true worship of the Sand spirits. Her father even went so far as to say that the Avatar was “unnatural” for bending all of the elements. “A freak”, he’d say, for the sand was the greatest element in his eyes. But all Evera ever had to go on were the rumors she heard as a girl, and had always likened Korra to some kind of myth or fictional super hero, as the stories about her seemed too amazing to be true. It was almost culture shock when she realized that the rest of the Earth Kingdom admired the Avatar so fondly.

She racks her brain, attempting to remember anything she ever learned about what the Avatar actually is. Her tribe didn’t even allow any books about the Avatar; it was taboo to even talk about. Her eyes stare down at the creases in her calloused hands; the hands that were only able to bend Earth just yesterday. The Avatar can bend all the elements, she thinks with certainty. That was for sure a part of the legends. 

Just before the train dives into the tunnel between the two rings, she glances back at the statue of Korra. It’s shrinking fast in the distance, but from this angle she can see another statue just beside it; one of a Polar-Bear Dog. 

That’s right, she remembers. The Avatar always has an animal guide. 

As the train sinks into the blackness of the tunnel, the window darkens and she can suddenly see her own reflection again. Her eyes fall on Sencha, her loyal, life-long companion, as she lies in a comfortable fluffy curl around her neck. 

No way, she thinks. This whole time?/p>

The morning sun comes shining through again as the train pulls into the Middle Ring. The streets were livelier now, with workers making their way down the walkways and shopkeeps hoisting open their front gates. Evera continues to keep her composure, taking a deep breath as the train approaches her stop. 

Should she turn around? Should she go tell Tuvo, explain what happened? 

No, her mind shouts at her. What if he tells everyone? What if this whole thing is just a misunderstanding? Maybe she just needs more sleep. Her mind wanders again to thoughts of her cozy bed at her apartment, when suddenly, she remembers: 

Song! Her roommate and best friend, Song, was going to be home at their apartment when she got there. Maybe she’ll still be sleeping. 

But of all the people in Evera’s little city life, Song has proven herself to be a very trustworthy friend. She and Evera had spent months together training to join the Dai Li, when Song suddenly realized that she hated being told what to do, even with her Military upbringing. She was too much of a free spirit to live that way, she had said to Evera, and really hated the hierarchy that the Dai Li hold so dear. 

Song’s an extremely skilled Waterbender, the first one that Evera had met when she moved to Ba Sing Se. She knows some very advanced moves and is very well-traveled, living somewhat of a nomadic life before coming to the city. But Evera couldn’t help but think of her sometimes as a stereotypical Waterbender; emotional, over-affectionate, and a little spacey in the head. While Evera never thought she’d ever get along with such a person, she grew to greatly admire Song and her ability to be so sure of herself. 

Maybe Song would understand. At the very least, Evera wonders, Song won’t think that she’s crazy. 

The train pulls into the Middle Ring station and Evera rises from her seat, exiting the car behind a long line of excited shoppers and tired commuters. Climbing down the stairs into the streets of the Middle Ring, she crosses the busy street and down a few blocks to her apartment complex, blending in seamlessly with the flowing crowd. 

*** * * ***

Opening the door to her apartment, Evera quietly tiptoes into her tidy living room. It is modestly decorated, with rope-tie wall beads hanging by the windows and tall ceramic vases from her tribe. The glass shelves marking each corner are filled with water tribe trinkets, such as cod-whale teeth weapons and small clay statues of otter-penguins and tiger-seal. 

In the center of the floor, a circular braided jute rug is rolled out over the wooden floor. In the center of the rug sits the tall and slender Song: her large eyes closed, sitting in her loose lotus position with her comfortable blue silken robes, deep in the throes of a meditation. 

Evera gently places Sencha down to the ground, watching her stretch her body from the journey. She gently trots over to the adjacent door of Evera’s bedroom, where her water bowl sits nice and full just beside the doorframe. She begins lapping at the water before cleaning herself neatly. 

Continuing to tiptoe silently along the border of the room, Evera attempts to do everything she can to not alert Song. Her bedroom was only a few steps away... 

“Evera.” 

She freezes.

“What’s the matter?” Song’s large, pale-blue eyes open suddenly, looking up to meet her guilt-ridden roommate. “I can feel your sad aura from here. What is it?” 

“Nothing!” Evera tries to hide the fear in her voice, “Just a long night at work, you know. They sent me into the Desert again. I haven’t slept in a million years so I really just need to shower and go right to bed-” 

“Wait...” Song stretches out her long legs in front of her, curling her body forward in a stretch. “Do you need a healing session? I can give you one real quick, my great Aunt Kya taught me some great relaxation waves, they feel amazing, and-“ 

“No, Song, maybe later, I just need some sleep.” Evera tries to not sound stern, but the lack of sleep cuts right through her voice. “It was just a super long night and I wasn’t able to sleep in the Airship on the way back, so I think I just need some-“ 

GLUB! Not looking where she’s going, Evera accidentally steps into Sencha’s water bowl, spilling out a full wave of water onto the hardwood. It washes right up to the jute rug where Song sits, soaking into its braided layers. 

“Ugh!” Evera kicks the floor in frustration. “I’m sorry, let me clean this up.” A concerned expression falls upon Song; something isn’t right here. 

“Nah I got it, I got it,” Song lifts a skilled hand and some of the water begins to move to her will, bending up from the hardwood in a dexterous swirl. 

“No,” Evera blocks Sencha’s bowl to stop her, “Let me do it! It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up!” 

Song’s brows furrow with worry. She lowers her hand and the water comes splashing back down to the hardwood again. 

“Evera,” Song begins, “Come on. I can tell something’s really bothering you. You know you can tell me anything. Is it Tuvo? Did he hit on you or something?” Evera rushes into the kitchen to grab some paper towels. She struggles to find any, checking every cabinet and closet. Song continues to shout from the living room- “Did you have to see your Dad in the desert? I can make you some calming Jasmine tea, and we can just talk it out. Come on.” 

Evera sighs. Maybe Song really will understand. 

She steps back out from the kitchen, looking defeated. 

“If you need a vacay, I can tell my dad and we can be on the next airship to the Central Air Temple.” Song curls her knees back to her body; she genuinely wants to make Evera feel better. “I mean, I don’t ever play my military brat card, so all I’d have to do is say that General Meelo’s daughter needs to get home.” 

It was just like her, to want to find a happy solution. But also quite like her to want to cut and run for another vacation. 

“Okay.” Evera steps closer to her, “If I tell you what’s wrong. Do you promise to not freak out?” 

“Mmmm,” Song ponders, “I don’t like to make empty promises.” 

“Please?” Evera asks desperately. She pulls down her hood to reveal her messy, sandy hair, her long pull-thru braid now lost in a wild, tangled mess. Song notes the seriousness in her eyes. 

"Okay. I won’t freak out.” Song sits up tall on her knees. “So tell me. What’s wrong?” 

Evera sighs again. She glances at the large puddle of water on the floor, still soaking into the braids of the rug. Raising up her right hand just as Song had done a minute before, Evera closes her eyes and takes in a deep, sharp inhale. She focuses her energy on the water, on its fluidity; on its spreading coldness on the floor; she thinks again about the waterfall she had envisioned earlier, and the beautiful lake where the gorgeous woman was bathing. 

With the flick of her first two fingers, Evera lifts her hand higher and exhales her holding breath. The spilled water begins **bending** up in a long, struggling, thin strip, dancing up wildly like a serpent to the sound of a snake charmer’s flute. It lifts from the hardwood and from the depths of the carpet, curling higher as she continues to wave her hand along. Evera grits her teeth, one eye open, trying to guide water back into Sencha’s bowl. It feels completely different than earth and sand, she thinks, struggling to contain the flow. 

Lowering her hand, the water comes crashing down with a SPLASH. Only about 1/5th of it makes it into the bowl; the rest crashes back onto the floor. 

She looks back to Song; her jaw has DROPPED. Both hands cover her mouth in pure amazement. 

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” 


	7. The Council Meeting (pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evera and Song talk about whether or not Evera should hide her newfound Avatar powers from the world. Her Dai Li boss, Tuvo, invites her to a secret council meeting at the palace in the Upper Ring. Did they discover that she's the Avatar?

“YOU’RE A WATERBENDER?!”

“NO! I mean, Yes!”

“BUT YOU’RE AN EARTHBENDER!”

“Don’t you think I KNOW THAT?!”

“Evera,” Song’s hands reach up grab hers in a dramatic, gentle way; her eyes grow wide. “Do you know what this means?”

Evera’s exhausted expression turns into a solid frown as she takes Song’s hands. She plops down on the floor in front of her, defeated.

“I think it means... that I’m. The Avatar.”

*** * * ***

“So,” Song sinks her spoon into a full bowl of cereal as she speaks, “When you saw Korra the second time, did she say anything? Like did she give you any Avatar wisdom or something?” 

Her and Evera had been up most of the night talking, with a few hours of much-needed sleep sprinkled in for them both. Evera had told her everything... about her visions in the desert, freezing Tuvo’s tea, the mysterious black-haired woman, even about the peach. Standing at the counter, Evera mixes a large portion of meat chunks in Sencha’s bowl. 

“No, I didn’t hear her say anything. But again, like, she was me. I was her, in the reflection of the ice.” She places the bowl down for kitten-form Sencha, who suddenly ages up her body to that of an adolescent sandcat. Her saber-teeth growing down a few inches along her jaw, she takes a big CHOMP of a first bite into her breakfast.

Evera checks her reflection in a nearby hanging mirror. Now in the traditional Dai Li dress, she adjusts her conical hat to fit firmer around her thick braid. The long, wide silken sleeves of the uniform hang loosely by her side.

“Like I said, my dad use to tell me lots of stories about Korra, about how awesome she was.” Song stuffs in a mouthful of cereal, muffling her words. “She seemed like such a badass, he said her ability to bend was just effortless.”

“I really just know nothing about her. Honestly, for a long time I kinda thought the Avatar was a myth.” 

Song thinks on this. “What do you think she was trying to tell you?”

Evera shakes her head. “I really don’t know. I wish I knew who the other woman was. She felt so important. When I saw her, I instantly wanted to just protect her.”

“Well, I know they gave up looking for the new Avatar awhile ago so I really think you should tell Tuvo, or someone.” Songs eyes meet Evera’s with some seriousness. “You shouldn’t keep this to yourself. Being the Avatar is basically like being a worldwide superhero.”

“I don’t really know if I want to be a superhero. I just want to be a Dai Li agent.” Evera pours herself a cup of hot water from a kettle off the stove. It fills a delicate leaf-shaped cup to the brim, the steam curling daintily up to her nose as she thinks. “Ugh, I don’t know. I just don’t understand what any of this means. I hardly know anything about the Avatar spirit. We never even learned about Korra in school back home, it wasn’t allowed.”

Song lets out a chuckle.

“Man, sometimes I forget just how fresh-off-the-boat you really are.” Song throws down her spoon and begins slurping the last of the milk in her bowl.

“Hey, I’m a proud transplant,” Evera shoots back sarcastically, “I know how to use the trains and everything.”

BEEP BEEP! Evera’s cellphone sounds off loudly. She checks it anxiously.

“Oh no,” Evera sighs, “Tuvo wants me in an emergency meeting. At the Parliamentary Palace,” she continues scanning down the rest of the message. “And he’s invited some leaders of the Republic Council to be there too. Chairman Bolin, Secretary Hilan, and... Guru Jinora.”

“My Aunt Jinora!” Song smiles, “She was really good friends with Korra too.”

Lifting a nimble hand, a wave of Song’s fingers sends a stream of still-bubbling water out from the kettle. She bends the stream effortlessly across the room and into her empty teacup. “You think Tuvo knows? Aunt Jinora doesn’t come to Ba Sing Se very often.”

“I don’t know,” Evera’s eyes nervously re-read the message, “It could be a normal mission briefing. But I don’t think anyone needs to know about me...about this. At least not right now.” Her eyes meet Song’s again, earnestly. “So can you promise me that you won’t tell anyone? And I mean no one, not your sisters, not your dad. No one. Is that okay?”

“Okay. But only if I get to be your waterbending teacher.” She continues to swirl the hot water in her cup with the twirl of her fingers, the teabag gently bouncing between the tiny waves as it stretches out the flavor in a dull, oak-red color. Losing her concentration as she smiles up at Evera, the wave breaches the top of the cup and tips it over, spilling all over the tablecloth. 

Evera smiles, for the first time all morning.

“Hah. Okay master, I’ll put you on the list.” 

* * * *

The great Palace in the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se had undergone an immense amount of construction following the anarchist takeover of the Red Lotus; it took years to recoup the losses of the Upper Ring’s looting during Korra’s time, and the Palace was not spared. Thankfully, President Wu (formally King Wu, one of the first leaders democratically elected by the Earth Kingdom), brought order to the city during his tenure, and had turned the once-royal Palace into a parliamentary meeting space and spiritual sanctuary for the leaders of the city and future presidents of the Nation who came after him. After all the time Wu had spent bringing democracy to the Earth Kingdom states, especially after the compassion and patience he showed the citizens during the Gaoling crisis, he had earned a place in the history books. 

As Evera walks through the newly renovated Great Hall, she notes the spiritual paintings mounted along the walls and the great lofty curtains that string along the tall gold ceiling. Although she’s had a handful of meetings here in the past, including her final review before she was sworn in as a real member of the Dai Li, Evera never noticed until today exactly what these paintings were depicting: She passes one showing the great Central Spirit Portal in Republic City, shining it’s serene light up into a blanket of stars. Another depicts President Wu, the first voting ballot in hand, his sly smile beaming right off the acrylic. Another, just at the end of the hall by the grand doorway, is of a simple, plain, happy looking bear.

Two Dai Li guardsmen greet her at the grand double doorway entrance with a small polite bow. Standing equally apart, the guards symmetrically reach to the door with enclosed fists and pull their arms in, bending the thick marble open like two pearly elevator doors. Evera draws in a shaky breath before stepping through the gap. The council awaits.

Entering what was once the royal throne room, Evera walks along a lengthy, clean white carpet with no worry in her steps. Passing by the great pillars on either side of the enormous room, she reminds herself softly to relax; she must act normal here. She’s still the same Dai Li agent she was yesterday, she thinks to herself. After all, they may not have any clue about her newfound Avatar powers.

A magnificent half-moon table sits up high on an elevated platform at the end of the room where the Earth King’s throne once sat, boasting a gorgeous white-granite swirl upon it’s polished top. Spread out around the table is six elegant chairs, only five of which are occupied, all encircling a center stage where the white carpet ends. Evera keeps her head down as she walks, as she was taught, but gets a quick peek at the special stately visitors in the chairs:

Chairman Bolin, the elected top Congressional Chairman of Ba Sing Se, sits proudly in his seat, his broad, square shoulders donning United Republic pauldrons from his past loyal service to the Earth kingdom. His shining green eyes catch in the old palace lights, his salt-and-peppered hair always trim and proper in the traditional military cut. Evera has met the Chairman a number of times, once while working a security mission in the Lower Ring, and again at the annual winter holiday Food Drive that he proudly funds from his own pocket every year. His ideas to bring more social services to the Lower Ring citizens had helped millions thrive there, and he’s widely known for his kindness and generosity, as well as his thick, curling mustache. Though he was indeed the oldest member of the council at 82, he never fails to mention how Earthbending keeps him young.

Beside him sits Guru Jinora, the master Airbender and wise sage of the Air Nation. Although Evera’s never met her before, everyone in the Dai Li knows about her. She’s the only living Guru in the world, kind and brilliant in a unique, spiritual way; the studious saint of the resurging Air Nation. As the new elder matriarch of this (still quite small) Nation, she was doing an amazing job continuing the traditions of her historic culture and blending it with the needs of the modern world. Although she was often at odds with her brother, General Meelo, about how involved Airbenders should be in the United Forces, she always has her heart in the right place. Being her niece, Song has also told Evera a number of stories about her, namely ones about how the Guru remains one of the only Airbenders who can use the power of astral projection. Song has also mentioned that her Aunt can speak directly to nearby spirits. Evera thought this was preposterous at first (and sort of sacrilege...nearly offensive, if she was being honest), but Song has never told Evera a lie. Guru Jinora’s shaved head, adorned with her master arrow tattoos, is half-covered by an orange and blue hoodcap that elegantly flows down into a graceful, silken gown of robes. Evera could feel her warm smile as she approaches.

At the center seat is President Franko, the current President of the Earth Kingdom and leader of Ba Sing Se. A non-bender, Franko’s popularity has waxed and waned during his now second term, though he is widely well-liked and regarded as a smart, savy leader, especially with all the changes that Ba Sing Se has endured during his tenure. He is known as the “establishment” man, criticized for being “bought out” by big interests like the Metalclan Bank tradesmen and other financiers of the Upper Ring. A lot of citygoers also blame him for the rampant terror attacks, as his policies allowed loopholes for the Si Wong Rebels to escape prosecution.

He had sworn Evera in when she joined the Dai Li, and Evera always remembered his cunning sense of humor and down-to-earth personality that had won him debate after debate(though as a “non-bending everyman”, he wasn’t too popular with the conservative crowd). A rather stout man, his chill, non-pretentious presence is always a relief to Evera, and she knows that she’ll be sad once his term comes to an end in a few months. Whoever gets elected certainly has big shoes to fill.

In the next seat beside the President sits Secretary Hilan of the Upper Ring, the top elected official in the Earth Kingdom Senate. Often the talk of the latest scandal, the Secretary seems to always be dodging sketchy headlines or creating fake ones about herself(more of the latter these days with her current Presidential bid in the works). Born from old elite Earth Kingdom money not far from the Palace, Evera often wondered if Hilan had ever stepped foot outside the Upper Ring in her entire life. Her aging face is usually dressed down in a scowl, but there seems to be a fake smile on it today, her prim blonde bob curling just above her shoulders, hiding the faint glint of golden fan earrings.

And finally beside the Secretary sits Tuvo, his usual serious face looking rather nervous. His hands are folded in front of his chin with patience, donning the traditional robes of the Dai Li masters. 

Reaching the center stage under the council chairs, Evera kneels down to one knee, bowing her head in respect to the leaders before her. She freezes in place, eyes glued to the elegant marble floor.

“Mr. President. Master Tuvo, fellow members of this great Council,” Evera calls out, hiding the shake in her voice among the echo in the chamber, “I am humbled to be in your presence today.” 

A great silence falls upon the royal room. 

Evera keeps her head down with the great respect she was taught. She hears a shuffling from the table above her, but dares not glance up before being addressed.

More silence.

Evera’s heart begins to flutter with nervousness. What’s going on? 

“No,” Tuvo’s voice calls out gently to her. “It is us who should be humbled to be in your presence...”

Evera finally looks up, her knee still welded to the floor. She gasps:

 **The members of the council are all down on the floor before her, kneeling to her in worship.** Their hands outstretch toward her, their noses pressing flat to the ground. Tuvo’s voice calls out again.

“...Avatar Evera.”


	8. The Council Meeting (pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evera explains herself to the Council, who have their own opinions on how Evera should begin her Avatar training. Will they let her stay on the Dai Li?

“No, please, don’t bow to me, please.” 

Evera stands up with her shaking knees, her eyes darting from councilmember to councilmember as they keep their heads to the floor. 

“You are the Avatar, child,” Secretary Hilan pipes up, “And you’ve been missing from the world for quite a long time.”

“Where I come from, we only kneel to the Spirits, so please, this is uncalled for.”

“Evera dear,” Chairman Bolin glances up, a calming sympathy in his emerald eyes, “You _are _a Spirit. At least, a Spirit Bridge. _The _Spirit Bridge. I know it must feel overwhelming. And... maybe confusing. But don’t worry. We want to help you.”____

____“How are you sure that it’s me?” The council members finally rise from the floor and stand in reverence around her. Tuvo grins behind his thick beard._ _ _ _

____“Well. I could have just written off what you did to my tea as some freak accident. Sometimes I get a little too caught up in the work and my tea goes cold. But never that cold.” He laughs at the thought, “But, while you were in the office, your Ring photos automatically uploaded to my classified secure cloud storage. Remember after your last mission, when you uploaded them that way? Your Ring must have the auto setting still tied to my cloud.”_ _ _ _

____He reaches behind him for his laptop, opening its lid to reveal a series of images. There was Evera, eyes glowing, braided hair flowing in the wind, a half-dozen peaches flying all around her. Her Ring cam must have went off while she was in the encampment._ _ _ _

____Strange... was her camera taking photos when she wasn’t looking?_ _ _ _

____“I didn’t do that on purpose, just so you know,” Evera says defensively, “I actually don’t know what was happening to me. It was like something else was controlling me.” Her eyes fall on Guru Jinora. She does not speak; her face only beams with a blissful grin._ _ _ _

____“That ‘something else’ is the Avatar State.” Chairman Bolin says matter-of-factly, “It’s something only the Avatar can do, when you tap into your Avatar Spirit and your past lives, using all of their power and knowledge.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s a defense mechanism, actually,” Tuvo joins in, “The Avatar Spirit is reincarnated. The past Avatars; their experience and skills live on in you. So the Avatar State can be very powerful.”_ _ _ _

____“Powerful?” Evera asks, “It felt terrifying. I didn’t tap into it, it tapped into me.”_ _ _ _

____“So you’re sayin’, you didn’t know about this until the other day?” President Franko finally speaks, his thick accent echoing in the room. Sometimes he sounds more like the owner of a Lower Ring pizza shop than a President. “We were wondering how long you knew.”_ _ _ _

____“No. I had no idea, I swear,” Evera pleads, “It all started while I was on the mission in the desert. I thought I was just feeling sick or something.”_ _ _ _

____“I certainly hope you didn’t know,” Hilan says, a tinge of arrogance in her voice, “Imagine, hiding such a thing from this Council.”_ _ _ _

____“I swear. I didn’t even mean to do that to your tea, Tuvo, it just kind of happened.” Evera darts her eyes back to Hilan. “But honestly though, isn’t it kind of no one’s business but my own?” Tuvo strokes at his beard in thought._ _ _ _

____“It’s alright, Evera. We understand.” The President’s voice diffuses the room. “And the members of this Council have decided that it’s actually in the City’s best interest to keep this a secret. If the Si Wong Rebels, or any other bad guys for that matter, find out who you are, it’ll draw a lot of unwanted attention, ya know? They might up their attacks on the City.”_ _ _ _

____“That’s right,” Chairman Bolin nods knowingly. “And, we think you should begin your Avatar training, immediately.”_ _ _ _

____“Immediately?” Evera asks, “But what about my missions? What about my post with the Dai Li?”_ _ _ _

____“There are bigger things at stake here, dear child,” Hilan says softly, “You will be resigning. The Avatar’s duty is to the world. The Dai Li will be fine without you.”_ _ _ _

____They can’t be serious, Evera thinks. Her eyes fall sullen, glancing back over to Tuvo._ _ _ _

____“Tuvo, you can’t possibly agree with this?” His eyes now dart to the floor with lament._ _ _ _

____“Well. Actually, I don’t. At all.” Tuvo's voice rings with blunt honesty. “But it’s not up to me, as much as I wish it were. You’re the best agent I have, Evera, my most trustworthy. And, quite frankly, being the Avatar, it means-_ _ _ _

____“It means stepping up and being brave, my child.” Hilan interrupts, “Every Avatar has answered their call to duty. This is your destiny.”_ _ _ _

____Evera tries to hide her contempt._ _ _ _

____“With all due respect, Ma’am,” she says, masking the grit in her voice, “my destiny is up to me. And me alone.”_ _ _ _

____She looks over the group again solemnly where they stand in the royal chamber, feeling frozen like an unfinished sculpture on the marble stage. Kneading her silk Dai Li robe sleeves between her fingers, they catch delicately on her calloused hands; the hands that had worked so hard to make it here, to become the Dai Li agent she always wished to be._ _ _ _

____“I have great respect for all of you. But please, just hear me out,” Evera begins, “This is all just... a lot to handle for me right now. But I know that I don’t want to resign from the Dai Li. I have worked much to hard to earn this uniform, and I love protecting Ba Sing Se. I love going on these missions and I love serving my nation.”_ _ _ _

____She can feel the palace lights shining down on her sunkissed face, catching eyes with each member of the Council as she continues. It was strange, having the full attention of such high-ranking, important people. Though some Avatars reveled in their fame, Evera still finds herself wanting to just blend right into the walls._ _ _ _

____“I want this to stay a secret too, so I’m glad we’re on the same page there. But can’t I just stay on the force and stay...undercover?”_ _ _ _

____Tuvo’s eyes light up at this word. A smile crosses his face._ _ _ _

____“Undercover!” Tuvo says it again, trailing his thoughts out loud, “If Evera stays with the Dai Li, and continues on her missions, she could become the greatest, most resourceful undercover Agent that the force has ever seen.”_ _ _ _

____“How do you mean?” The President asks slowly. Tuvo begins pacing around the room._ _ _ _

____“Imagine it, Evera.” He says to her, “You go undercover to the Fire Nation, as an actual Fire Bender. You’d blend right in!”_ _ _ _

____Evera smiles, slowly at first, at the thought of this. “That's right. If I learn all the elements, I could blend in anywhere in the world.”_ _ _ _

____For the first time, Evera feels a sliver of hope in all this serious Avatar talk. She looks back to the rest of the group._ _ _ _

____“I don’t know,” The Secretary places a hand on her hip, “Won’t working for the Dai Li just be a huge distraction?”_ _ _ _

____“I think it’s a great idea, at least worth considering,” Chairman Bolin smiles in approval. “I can even help you finish off your Earthbending training, just in case Tuvo missed something in your super secret agent bootcamp. Korra and I did our fair share of sparring back in the day on the Fire Ferrets.” He lifts his arms up and around his head to nonchalantly stretch out his still-impressive old man biceps. CRACK! The Chairman makes a twisted face and reaches for his shoulder. “Ooof. I guess it’s been awhile.”_ _ _ _

____Tuvo chuckles._ _ _ _

____“Don’t worry, Chairman,” He boasts, glancing back at Evera. “I’ll make sure of it, but I think Evera has Earthbending locked down. You’ve come a long way from being that freshman from the Desert.”_ _ _ _

____“What about the other elements?” The President thinks aloud._ _ _ _

____Evera nods confidently._ _ _ _

____“My roommate Song said she’d teach me Waterbending.”_ _ _ _

____“You must master Firebending first.” Secretary Hilan says, “I just think we should do this the traditional way and send you to the Fire Nation where you can focus.”_ _ _ _

____Evera sighs. She again catches eyes with Guru Jinora, who is still standing silently, her warm, nearly stupid smile still plastered across her face._ _ _ _

____“Guru Jinora,” Evera says softly to her, “I know you knew Avatar Korra too. She is a stranger to me. But don’t you think I should have a say in what happens here?”_ _ _ _

____Their eyes meet in a new silence. The Guru takes a few gentle steps forward, her elegant robes gathering in a train along her ankles, moving like drifting mountain clouds over the marble flooring. She pulls her hood away to reveal her completely shaved head, her master arrow tattoo now in full display to the room. It curves down at the nape of her elegant neck and disappears under her robe like a carved wooded trailhead vanishing into Hei Bai’s forest. Her smile never fades._ _ _ _

____She outstretches her arms, wrapping them around Evera securely, embracing her into a sweet, long-lasting hug._ _ _ _

____“Oh, I’ve missed you,” Guru Jinora whispers, “But I knew you weren’t really gone.”_ _ _ _

____Evera, at first a tad stunned, lifts her own arms to hug her back. The Airbender’s presence certainly feels familiar to her, too._ _ _ _

____Guru Jinora finally pulls away from the hug and takes Evera’s hands._ _ _ _

____“I think you should decide what is best for yourself.” She turns to the rest of the Council. “This is a new situation. The Avatar is not a child, like my Grandfather Aang was when he started his training, or a young teenager like my dear friend Korra was.” She turns back to Evera. “You are grown. You’ve made a life here that you should be proud of. There’s no good reason to take you away from that.”_ _ _ _

____Evera smiles with relief at the Guru, her indigo-grey eyes looking more and more familiar by the second. She nods in agreement._ _ _ _

____“I do think it’s quite odd that you didn’t have the power to bend any other element until now.” The President remarks, “Usually an Avatar begins training when they’re around 16.”_ _ _ _

____“I thought I could only do Sandbending until a few years ago. I didn’t even try any other forms of Earthbending until I moved to the city.” She thinks on this, and some memories of her Father echo in her head. He had instructed her in Sandbending, from a very young age. “Well, it was more like, I thought I was only allowed to be a Sandbender. My tribe considered everything else... forbidden.”_ _ _ _

____“We searched for so long after Korra passed,” Guru Jinora says, her voice trailing on the memories of those scary days, “But your tribe must have eluded us. And if you really were that isolated, your Avatar Spirit must have been very repressed. And now, it’s fighting to come out. It could get very dangerous for you and for others if you don’t learn about how to control it. But this is your path.”_ _ _ _

____Jinora makes her way back to the other Council members and turns to face her again._ _ _ _

____“So. What do you want to do, Avatar Evera?”_ _ _ _

____Evera’s eyes fall back on her hands again. She can’t help but feel a little appalled at herself; She recalls her time spent at the Si Wong shrines with her tribe, where the Priests would call upon the Sandbender youth, and tell them over and over that their bodies are the “holy temples of the sand.”_ _ _ _

____She didn’t feel very holy anymore. But she didn’t feel like a sinner, either. And she certainly didn’t feel like a monster any longer._ _ _ _

____Her entire life, she was taught that the sand was the most pure of all the elements. The memories of her departing from her Tribe come rushing back; the uncertainty, the longing for her family and familiarity; but she never felt any fear. Or any regret, even as she learned the so-called “sacrilege” soil-born Earthbending._ _ _ _

____It all feels so silly now. Because now, she thinks, she has to learn all of the other elements. She has to become that once-fearsome Firebender, a graceful Waterbender, an elusive Airbender. It goes so much further than the sand, she thinks... and in this moment, the desert has never felt so small. Because she is the Avatar._ _ _ _

____She is the Avatar. She is the Avatar!_ _ _ _

____“I will learn how to control this Avatar State,” Evera states firmly, “I will learn, and master, the other elements. But I will not resign from the Dai Li, absolutely not. I can start my training and use what I learn on the undercover force to continue serving my Nation.”_ _ _ _

____“It is not about this Nation,” Secretary Hilan says, “It’s about restoring balance to the world.”_ _ _ _

____“You are right.” Evera retorts, “but Ba Sing Se is the biggest city in the world. People from every Nation come here, start families here. Benders of all elements are born here, and are even allowed to join the Dai Li. If my work on the force can help me learn and use the other elements, and help me understand the bigger problems facing this world, then I know it can help forge my path as...the Avatar.”_ _ _ _

____They all nod in agreement with her, except Hilan. She crosses her arms defiantly._ _ _ _

"I guess we could have a trial period, where you remain on the Dai Li," Bolin says, stroking at his chin, "So long as the work doesn't interfere with your teachings. And that you really do begin learning all of the elements, as soon as possible." 

Evera smiles at him before looking over the rest of the Council with a nod.

____“It’s settled then.” Tuvo says, walking up to Evera to place his hand on her shoulder. “We will keep your secret while you train. We can help look for a Firebending teacher for you over the next few weeks, perhaps someone from the Royal Palace can make a trip. Remember, if you’re still Dai Li, you still report to me. But I know that you will make an amazing Avatar.”_ _ _ _

____She smiles at him, proudly._ _ _ _

____“Thank you, my friend.” They lock arms in a traditional handshake grip._ _ _ _

____“In the meantime, I guess I can still give you the new travel assignment I had lined up for you. It’s a quick document handoff.” Tuvo stands up broader, remembering that he’s still the Avatar’s boss. “We got the lead after something strange has happened at the Ba Sing Se University Library, and we believe it has something to do with the Rebels. I want to brief you on it before you leave.”_ _ _ _

____“Sounds like a plan. Where am I headed for the assignment?”_ _ _ _

____“Let’s just say, you might be able to use some of those waterbending skills you used on my tea.” Tuvo turns to Chairman Bolin. “Unless the Chairman has anything else, I believe this meeting can be adjourned.”_ _ _ _

____Nodding, the Chairman turns back to his seat at the half-moon table and grounds his stance. With a quick powerlift of his arm, a small granite gavel hammer whimsically lifts into the air above the table. With a double tapping motion of his wrist, the gavel hits the table decisively with a hearty “KNOCK-KNOCK.”_ _ _ _

____As the group turns to collect their belongings, Secretary Hilan approaches Evera alone. Her voice hushes into a whisper._ _ _ _

____“It sure is good to know the Avatar really was born to the Earth Nation, even if you are a transplant to the city,” She says, careful to note that they are indeed alone on the marble floor now. “I was just wondering. Have you had any connections with Avatar Korra? Anything, perhaps signs from the Spirits, or maybe any visions? Has she come to speak with you at all?”_ _ _ _

____Evera nervously holds her breath, noting the serious tone in her voice._ _ _ _

____“No. I haven’t connected with her at all. I don’t really know anything about her.” Evera says it convincingly enough. “Why do you ask?”_ _ _ _

____“Oh, no reason. Just curious. I’m just wondering if she’s made herself known. She was loud, like that. You know how quite savage Water Tribe folk can be.” She begins to step away. “Be sure to tell me if you do, my child.” She watches her walk away back up to her seat, her famous old grimace crossing back over her wrinkled face._ _ _ _

____Guru Jinora, her glider staff gripping in her hand like a walking stick, approaches Evera again onto the floor. She bows in deep respect to the newfound Avatar._ _ _ _

____“It has been such a pleasure, young Avatar. I’ll be staying in the city for the next few days, so please don’t be a stranger. Come to me if you have any questions about anything” The Guru turns about, noting Hilan heading back up the white carpet towards the exit. Her voice falls to a sweet whisper. “Or anyone.”_ _ _ _


	9. The Man in the Stacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuvo and Evera head to Ba Sing Se University to investigate a mysterious happening at the school's Library. After getting briefed on her upcoming mission to Chameleon Bay, Evera goes to Song to learn some simple waterbending moves that will help her on the mission.

As it usually is during the first cool months of autumn, Ba Sing Se University is positively bustling. Eager-eyed freshmen (and bleary-eyed seniors) make their way around the campus green, it’s beautiful courtyard beaming with lush, full-bodied trees and patches of soft grass where clichés of students take much-needed breaks. Evera and Tuvo had taken the back professor’s entrance, hoping not to alarm the students in the front quad with their Dai-Li presence. 

“Evera!” A girl’s voice calls out to her; Evera looks up to find Zayana, senior Political Science major at the University. A digital camera strings around her neck as her and an entourage of young students approach them. 

More Song’s friend than Evera’s, Zayana always seemed like an energetic woman on a mission for the truth. Song had introduced her to Evera late last year when she had written an article about Song’s father, General Meelo. Zayana’s career aspirations as a journalist always came first, and she was the editor in chief of the Stonesthrow Times, the weekly newspaper at the University press. Evera’s always admired her dedication as a journalist, though she does find her a bit nosey. She begins taking some photos of her and Tuvo.

“Please, no pictures,” Tuvo grumbles out to her.

“Evera, what is the Dai Li doing here? Is it about misappropriated funds for the new Library? Why isn’t it finished yet? Is our tuition going to waste?” Her barrage of questions is waved away by Tuvo. Evera shakes her head.

“Sorry Zayana, we’re just doing our rounds, nothing to see here.” Zayana frowns, her shoulder-length blonde hair framing around her youthful, pale face. 

“You sure you can’t drop me a lead on a new story?” She hustles to keep up with their pace, “Like, when will the Library be finished? Is Brock Ting still leading the project? Oh, do you and Song wanna get dinner later?”

“Yeah, maybe this weekend we can do dinner? Sorry, I can’t really help you with a headline, we’re a little busy.” Evera and Tuvo continue on, leaving Zayana and her entourage behind. She calls back to her, “Maybe we can hit up Fu’s this weekend.” 

Zayana waves, the smile fading from her face as she looks over the photos she got: all blurry. 

“Vultures. They sure start them young.” Tuvo retorts sarcastically.

“Hey, Zayana’s a cool girl,” Evera replies, “Wouldn’t you want to know where your tuition money was going?”

Weaving through the labyrinth of dorms and administrative buildings, the duo finally come to a sectioned-off construction site, towering scaffolding and tarps draped across pallets of unused wood and yellow warning tape. They duck under the tape and enter an unfinished building, a small printed sign posted up on the door: “LIBRARY CONSTRUCTION SITE: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” 

The future new University Library was nearly complete; stacks of half-empty shelves lined the shining new marble flooring, the smell of freshly sanded wood still curling into the air. The dome-top shape of the roof gives it a modern, smart-looking flare, as if the Spirits themselves can peer in and watch over each page.

In the center of the room among a flurry of construction workers stands a tall, barrel-chested man in a expertly tailored deep navy suit: It was none other than Brock Ting, millionaire and real-estate mogul of the Upper Ring. He stands beside a hard-hatted foreman as they look over a clipboard, his golden, slicked-back plot of blonde hair shining under the new library lights. His green eyes scanning down yet another important document needing his approval, he pulls out a golden fountain pen from his suit pocket (a pen probably worth more yuan than anything Evera had ever owned). He quickly scribbles the bottom with his signature and passes it back before spotting Tuvo and Evera approaching from the doorway. 

Brock Ting went by many names: Mr. Ting, Big Brock, Brock the Rock...but he was hoping to go by a new name this fall: Mr. President. He was one of the most well-known and controversial figures in all of Ba Sing Se. People from all over knew his story; born in the Middle Ring to a family of great Earthbenders, he grew up working alongside his father, who had started a business building car garages for Satomobiles in the city. With such an ironclad work ethic and second-to-none construction skills, the Tings soon earned their first million yuan and were able to move their family to the Upper Ring. When Brock fully took over the family business, he expanded it to create luxury housing, hotels and even redesigned some of the inner-city parks.

Quite the contentious celebrity, he was known for his flashiness and, at times, gaudy personal design, though many believe he embodied the “Earth Kingdom dream” to be able to manage and elevate his family’s status even higher than his Father could ever dream for him. He even did a few pro-bono projects, including this new Library for his Alma Matter, and promised to complete it on time and ahead of schedule (well, that is, as long as they agreed to name it the Brock Ting Library). He certainly had his share of critics; known for being quite the Earthbending Nationalist, the press loved to smear him at every opportunity for being prejudice towards other nations. Even more so now, due to his latest presidential bid against Secretary Hilan.

“Tuvo, thanks for coming,” He bows with respect as they approach, “And you must be Evera. I’ve heard a lot about you, they say you’re the greatest.” Evera politely bows back, slightly shocked to see such a celebrity in the dust of his own construction site(especially without any TV cameras around to prove it).

“I want to show Evera.” Tuvo looks beyond past Brock’s shoulder to the lofty stack of books, “Is it okay if I bring her back there?” 

“Sure thing, follow me.”

Brock leads them back through the stacks, the decorative lights along the caps of the aisles becoming rarer and rarer as they follow. The path ahead of them grows darker and darker as they progress along the gangway shelves, dimming over them like thickened treeline branches shrouding the sun from a forest floor. In a matter of minutes, the Library’s friendly, futuristic ambiance had changed into one of eerie, mysterious energy. 

They soon come to a dark aisle of books blocked off with yellow warning tape, printed red signs plastered all around it: DO NOT ENTER, MR TINGS ORDERS. DO NOT ENTER, FIREABLE OFFENSE. Brock raises up the tape and motions the duo through to this quarantined zone. Evera holds her breath as she passes under. 

She stands curiously in the darkness of the aisle. There is a man-shaped figure standing up ahead of them, his construction hat gleaming in the shadows of the shelves. He is not moving.

“What happened? Is he a witness to a crime?” Evera whispers to Tuvo, who continues on ahead of her with Brock. He shakes his head.

“If he is, he can’t tell us.” Tuvo whispers back. A chill runs down Evera’s spine; the unfinished, murky vibe of the Library was giving her the creeps now. She continues walking to catch up to them, approaching the stone-still construction worker’s place as he faces the books, frozen where he stands.

“Someone on my nightshift crew found him like this,” Brock begins, looking the man up and down, “But we have no idea what happened.”

Evera approaches the man slowly. He indeed is one of Brock’s workers, looking ordinary enough: wide cargo slacks, a thin orange safety vest draped over his linebacker shoulders, the famous Ting “T” insignia plastered across the back. His face is frozen in an expression of shock; brows arching, mouth agape. Evera waves a hand in front of his face in confusion.

“Hello? Sir?” Evera gently calls to him, “Excuse me, sir?” 

He does not answer. He does not move

“He’s not gonna answer you,” Tuvo whispers, “He won’t answer anyone. He’s stuck like this.”

She places a gentle hand to his cheek; still warm. She moves the hand to his neck; she cannot find a pulse. What in the world?

“How long has he been like this?” Evera asks, attempting to hide her shock.

“About 12 hours,” Brock replies, “We don’t know what happened to him, but we can’t move him. It’s like his feet are welded to the floor.”

Evera kneels down to examine the man’s workboots. They look normal, dirtied from the plentiful sawdust, and worn in with perhaps hundreds of miles of construction site steps. There is nothing particularly “holding” him to the floor, but there is a pile of books lying around him on the marble, fallen from their place on the tall shelf.

Peering back up at the man, she suddenly notices the position of his arms: slightly outstretched in an empty cradle, holding onto an invisible object.

“Looks like he was doing some midnight reading,” Evera stands up. “But this is very strange.” She spots a silver wristwatch on the man’s left arm. She examines it closely: It has stopped, the second hand on the watchface unmoving as well. It’s time reads 11:57PM. Evera’s voice falls to a whisper.

“It’s as if he’s frozen in time.”

“That was my first thought as well,” Tuvo says quietly, “His pupils do not react to light and his blood is not moving though his body. But he is alive. He’s just locked in here.”

“My men have joked about this part of the Library being haunted,” Brock says incredulously, “Is it possible a Spirit did this?”

“Very possible,” Evera says, “The Si Wong Rebels worship the Spirits of Time and Sand, so this could be some kind of attack. But I don’t believe Spirits normally attack humans unprovoked. Was he maybe being aggressive?”

“Nah, this guy’s a gentle giant.” Brock says sadly, “Everyone loves him.”

“Evera, these books are all written by the same guy,” Tuvo reaches down to retrieve one of the thick hardcovers from the floor, presenting it to her. “An author named I.J. Lee. He’s apparently a performing artist in the Fire Nation, and a prolific writer on the bending arts. We think Brock’s worker here was looking for something specific in the stacks when he got stuck like this.”

Evera takes the book in her hands and reads the cover: ‘Advanced Bending Principals volume III: The Third Eye.’ Cryptic symbols are carved into the book’s leather-bound cover. An eerie silence falls down upon them, until...

BBBRRRING! 

Evera JUMPS! 

But it is just Brock’s cellphone. 

“Sorry,” Brock says with a sigh, “I gotta take this. Thanks again for your help, Tuvo, and a pleasure meeting you, dear.” He quickly walks off with his cell phone, spouting something about contracts, ducking down an adjacent aisle back down the way they came.

“I managed to reach out to this Author, I.J.” Tuvo continues, “And wouldn’t you know, he tells me that he was expecting a call from the Dai Li. He says he has information about the Si Wong Rebels concerning his close friend, Lo-Son Jae. And he wants to talk.”

“He’s friends with Lo-Son Jae?” Evera asks, peering back down at the strange novel. “Maybe he knows what the Rebels are doing with him.”

“Exactly,” Tuvo says, “I’ve arranged for you to meet him undercover off the coast of Chameleon Bay. You’ll be attending a reception cruise. You are to meet I.J. and receive his information, but you’ll have to be careful, because we really don’t know much about this guy. But he could be a big help in taking down the Rebels, and he claims he really wants to help Lo-Son Jae.”

“A reception?” Evera asks, unenthused.

“A wedding reception, actually.” He continues, “A Fire Nation General is marrying the daughter of a Northern Watertribe Nobleman. Your contact I.J. will be one of the Fire Jugglers working the party.”

“Great,” Evera says sarcastically, “I love weddings.”

“Well, it was my idea. I did my research and found that I.J. was performing there, and I happen to be good friends with the father of the bride. I figured it should be a crowded place, just in case this I.J. decides to pull you into trouble.... There’s just one small issue.”

“What’s that?” 

* * * *

“Okay,” Song stands on the far side of their living room by the windows, the curtains drawn to hide any nosey neighbor from peering in, “Lets try again. Just do it exactly like I do it, feel the flow. Follow your body through the stance.”

Evera, back in her regular tribe-inspired clothes, stands in frustration across the room from Song. A large bucket of water sits between them in the middle of the room, imprinting a wet circle on the round jute rug. Sencha, in her sweet kitten form, is curled up in a warm fuzzy ball on the nearby table. Beside the adorable kitten sits two empty wineglasses. 

Stepping with her left foot, Song raises her left hand and gracefully flicks her wrist, waving her palm around elegantly. Her right hand follows suit and waves alongside in a “lifting” motion. A stream of water begins twirling up from the bucket, whisking up decisively over and around Song’s head. With the continuous twirl of her arms, Song waves the water over to the nearby table and streams it directly into an empty wineglass, not spilling a drop. 

She looks over to Evera and nods. Evera sighs heavily, taking a similar stance by the door.

She steps with her left foot and raises up her arm. Nothing happens at first.

“Just think about the coolness of the water,” Song calls across the room, “Think about the way it can fill any space, how flexible it is.” 

Evera thinks about this; she remembers the waterfall from her vision and the way the calming green lakewater pooled out in front of her feet. Waving her hand higher, a stream of water suddenly lifts from the bucket and swirls above the room.

“You got it!” Song calls out. “Don’t forget your other hand!” Evera holds her concentration, motioning her right hand to continue on with this wave. As gracefully as she can muster, Evera twirls her arms just as Song had done, watching as the water swirls in a whooshing lasso rope around her. She motions for it to move towards the second wineglass on the table, catching herself in a stumble as the stream begins to drip and leak. Song still calls from afar: “It’s okay to move your body, no need to be rigid like a rock! Flow, like water!”

Evera takes another step and dances out of the stumble, continuing the swirl of her hands as the water follows suit. Aiming down, she gracefully streams the water toward the empty glass, following through with her motions as it begins to fill up.  
“Yes!” Song shouts out, “You’re doing it! That’s SO much better!” 

Filling the glass up all the way, the last bit of the stream accidentally whips down, splashing poor Sencha out of her cozy slumber. 

“Oh, sorry girl!” Evera calls out. Sencha grumbles, shaking off her long fur, sending the drips flying about. Song laughs, swirling up the excess water from Sencha’s mane with a twirl of her finger.

“That was so great! See, I know how to teach.” Song stands confidently, beaming with a smile.

“Thank you, Sifu Song.” Evera says, half-sarcastically. “Really though, that was actually very helpful. Water feels so different than Earth. In the sand, I constantly have to ground myself and stay rigid. With water, it’s like you have to move your body to match its flow.”

“Exactly,” Song states confidently, “It’s all about the push and pull of the water. Great Aunt Kya taught me well.”

“I can’t believe Tuvo wants me to impersonate a waterbender already,” Evera says, sitting in a nearby chair. She begins stroking Sencha’s damp fur. “And this little move is the only one I really know how to do.”

“You know how to do the freezing move.” Song says with a sly smile.

“Hah, that was more of an accident.” Evera reaches out to the wineglass, picking it up to dump its contents back into the bucket. 

“I guess streaming the water is the only important move you need to know for this anyway.” Song says, retaking her stand, “Isn’t that all a waitress does at a wedding? Serve drinks?”

“Ugh, so embarrassing,” Evera says, going back across the room, “I work years in the Dai Li, find out I’m the literal Avatar... and now I’m gonna be serving drinks.”

“Do it well enough and no one will know the difference, you’ll blend right in as a watertribe waitress working for tips.” Song strings up another stream of water, swirling it around the room toward Evera. Evera motions up and ‘pushes’ it back to her. “Tuvo’s right, you’d stick out like a sore thumb if you went as an Earthbender.”

“Uh oh,” Evera says, her eyes drawing away from the water to look down at her regular clothes. “That reminds me. I don’t have any water tribe clothing.” Song smiles.

“Leave that one to me.”


	10. Rain Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evera goes undercover to a very fancy wedding for a Fire Nation groom and a Watertribe bride, on a yacht cruise over Chameleon Bay. She finds the informant she was sent to meet, the handsome I.J. Lee, disguised as a firejuggler at the party. But before they get a chance to talk, the party breaks out in a traditional Water Tribe dance: the Rain Dance!

Chameleon Bay’s picturesque navy-green waters are surprisingly calm today, and everyone on the massively elegant SatoYacht was very thankful for that. The wedding forecast had previously called for bouts of rain in the morning, but so far they were all spared, much to the bride (and her father, and his wallet)’s delight. The East Beach ceremony had gone off without any issue, and the large party of guests were eager to drink and be merry upon the luxurious mini-cruiseliner.

Evera stands among a sea of expensive silks, gleaming goldenrod chains and handsome United Republic dress blues. The crowd around her is pretty evenly split between the bride and groom’s families; there are decorative Fire Nation pauldrons draped across the men and honoree medals pinned to some of their collars, while many others don wide-sleeved Watertribe robes lined with otter-mink furs and long, floor-length gowns in icy turquoise and royal purple hues.

A string quartet plays a graceful, mingling melody as Evera makes her way through the crowd, a large serving tray of wineglasses and a fat open bottle of chardonnay balancing on her arm. Once again, Evera finds herself singing Song’s praises with the clothes she had loaned her: An elegant beaded sapphire dress with a conservative shawl to cover her shoulders. And of course, a black apron to blend in with the other catering waitresses.

“Miss, a refill please?” A stately Fire Nation soldier steps in her path, holding out his empty glass. Evera nods, sighing silently, hoping she doesn’t mess this one up.

Flicking her free wrist up and out, a spout of champagne lifts magically from the bottle upon her tray. With a swirl of her hand, the bubbling liquid whisks between them and begins streaming right into the soldier’s empty glass. 

A look of hard focus falls on Evera’s face; it was like learning an intricate dance, she thinks, watching the last of the liquor stream fill up to the lip of the man’s goblet. Phew; I’m getting better, she thinks hopefully. The man nods his head in thanks and walks off to rejoin his clique of soldier boys on the main deck. She overhears a snippet of their conversation as she walks off:

“Like I was saying, I just don’t know if I trust Secretary Hilan,” He says to his fellow soldier friends, “she’s a career politician. If I was in the Earth Kingdom, I would have a hard time swallowing my pride to vote for her.”

“Nonesense,” the wife of another soldier pipes up, clutching onto a wineglass of her own, “She is perfectly qualified. You’ll see at the debates next week.”

The yacht itself is massive; two enormous outdoor decks separated by a cascading grand staircase, as well as sizeable indoor dining lounge where the party was to eat their evening meal and toast to the happy couple. They certainly spared no expense for their big day; along with the string quartet that plays their cocktail party fanfare, a metalbending harpist sits just inside the lounge, bending away in a graceful plucking motion at the thin, steel-lined chord strings on her beautiful pearlescent harp. Every table, doorway and railing is lined with bushels of tulips, rose garlands and rare panda-lily bouquets, matching the bride’s carefully picked color theme. Fountains of food and drink are everywhere, with the finest fresh fish hors d’oeuvres and toothpick-impaled delights making their rounds with the servers. For a moment she wishes Sencha had come with her; she'd love these table scraps. 

From the upper deck, Evera peers down to the lower level to survey the crowd. Just as Tuvo had mentioned, firebending jugglers were spread throughout the gathering, heating up guest plates, playing fun firemagic tricks and even pretending to spar with one another to give the crowd a show. Her contact is suppose to be one of these jugglers; but which one?

“Look mommy! The firebenders are fighting!” A very young watertribe girl, her poofy dress swallowing up her tiny frame, points down to the lower deck. Evera looks over, finding a large crowd encircling two firejugglers. They are kneeling on the deck, facing away from one another in a dueling stance, but soon rise to their feet and about-face.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a real fight, sweetie,” the girl’s mother says back, reassurance in her voice, “It’s just pretend. They’re reenacting an Agni Kai. They’re just gonna show everyone their super cool firebending.” The mother picks her daughter up, hoisting her onto her waist so she can get a better view of the performance.

Evera peers down as well, finding the growing crowd standing in awe of the two men. On one side of the circle stands a ponytailed juggler, azure-blue tape wrapped around his wrists, a royal Fire Nation breastplate shining over his chest as he takes a powerful, exaggerated stance. He points across the empty stretch of the deck to his opponent. 

“I’m sorry it has to end this way!” He shouts, flames igniting out the tips of his trigger fingers like two welding torches. The crowd looks eagerly to the other man, who stands confidently on the other side of the circle. Evera narrows her eyes to focus.

“No, you’re not.” the opponent says back, his voice deep and tender as he stares back across the circle from beneath a shielding hood. He retrieves a roll of bright red tape from his pocket, stretching out a line to wrap up his own wrists in a fresh covering. As the red layers cover over his knuckles, Evera’s eyes go wide; those hands... they are so gentle looking and worn...

Her vision! These are the hands she had seen in the desert! They are being wrapped in red tape, just as the vision predicted!

As he trails around the open circle, the mysterious man removes his hood and Evera gets a better look at him: His hair is long and wild, untethered by any elastic and flowing down past his shoulders in a thick, copper-brunette mane. He sports a hearty yet well-groomed beard, highlighting his already strong jaw and a sly, curious little smile. His eyes are goldenly hazel and shining in the sea-sprayed sun, a deep V tanktop robe showcasing his well-defined biceps and thick, veinlined forearms as he takes his firebending stance. A decorative black headband stretches across his forehead, intricate Fire Nation symbols embroidered across the front. He raises his fists to his jaw as the jugglers begin encircling one another, his hair swathing around in gentle waves as if they were born from the coastline of the Bay.

This must be the guy, Evera thinks with a smile. This must be I.J. Lee, the writer of the books; the one she’s here to meet.

“I will defend my Nation, for the lasting love of the bride and her groom! RAH!” The ponytailed juggler punches forward, a sparkling fireball blasting out in a controlled burn toward I.J. With two prayer-folded hands out, I.J. parts the fire like the red sea, curling the flames up and around him in a beautiful spectacle of flashing yellow light and heat. WOOSH! The fancy crowd around them applauds. Evera is impressed with his ability to control the blaze to keep it safely away from the outskirts of the audience. 

“Take THIS!” I.J. rolls a series of three high roundhouse kicks down across the circle, a long wave of flames lashing out from each jump. The flames undulate along the deck like a fiery serpent; the crowd “ooo’s” and “ahh’s” as this serpent dances right within a few feet of their expensive leather dress shoes and sparkling heels.

The ponytailed juggler intercepts this snaking flame with an outstretched palm, launching its trail upward above him in a series of colorful blasts; blue, green and orange fireballs explode above his head through his fingers, thanks to the slight-of-hand powders he had hidden inside his palm. The crowd cheers wildly. 

The jugglers bow to one another in conclusion; their little spar is over, for now. The crowd again cheers and applauds to them around the circle.

TING-TING-TING-TING! 

The music pauses and the crowd turns to the top of the stairwell. 

“May I have everyone’s attention please!” The stoutly father of the bride, donning his noble Watertribe suit and long white hair, continues clanging a fork on his wineglass as he speaks, now overlooking the massive crowd. “It is time for the traditional Water Tribe Rain Dance! You know what that means!” 

The crowd begins to happily chatter and smile with delight at this announcement, the gathering mob around the jugglers now quickly dispersing as the guests begin to pair off into couplings.

“For our new Fire Nation family, or those unaware of the tradition,” the proud father continues, “This is a celebratory dance where _everyone_ must be moving! Grab a partner, _feel_ the music, even groups of three are just fine! I want everyone up, the waiters, crewmen, even you Uncle Zuzi! Everyone must be dancing! It is bad luck to be standing still!”

The members of the string quartet glance at one another and nod. They begin to play a sweet, romantic ballad for the party to waltz along to; a soulful, slow symphony. As the vibrato harmonies of the violas chime out, the happy crowd jumps to their feet and starts searching on the deck for a partner: men and women, women and women, men and men, children meeting hands and swinging one another around to the swaying, dreamy music. 

Evera quickly finds herself alone. Everywhere she turns, a gentleman was bowing deeply to their chosen partner before whisking them off to the dancefloor. One by one they vanish, including all the pretty party guests, the other waitresses, the wedding coordinator, the maitre d', even the metalbending harpist, who finds herself a partner in a charming Fire Nation navyman. Evera places her heavy tray of drinks down on a nearby table and begins descending the grand staircase to the lower deck, watching the pairs of dancers synchronize their two-step in awe.

“May I have this dance?”

With a deep bow and an outstretched hand, Evera turns to find the one and only I.J., still glistening with sweat from his fantastical spar, that sly smile still painted across his otherwise stern-looking face. She pauses in shock at first; great, she thinks, first she had to waterbend, now she has to dance?

Looking around them at the base of the stairs, Evera discovers that they are now the only ones standing still; all other feet shuffling, all other guests now entirely lost in the throes of their partner and the romance of the day. The tender music swells around them as the mysterious man’s eyes look deeply into hers with the question; they seem so oddly familiar. She glances back down at his hand, still outstretched, still wrapped in the red layers of fresh prophetic tape. Her vision must be leading her to this dance... it must be important, she thinks. She reaches out with her own little hand, so much smaller than his, and finally takes it.

He escorts her out onto the lower deck, offering another polite bow when they find the center of the crowd. His strong, gentle arm reaches around to hold the small of her back, Evera’s grip now tightening nervously onto his other hand, the one that had lead her here. He grips back softly as they take position, face to face, the coarse red layers of the tape atop his knuckles grazing on the pads of her fingers. 

He begins to lead, sweeping her in a slow waltz around the other guests, effortlessly gliding his feet across the floor to the music. Evera fights a tiny wave of nausea, thinking too hard about the bouncing boat and the miles of water surrounding them. She grips onto his bare shoulder tightly to brace herself; it is as hard as creeping crystal jennamite. She has never been one for dancing, especially without the salts of the earth beneath her, but still allows him to guide her in this two-step about the other happy couples, so long as they blend in. Song never warned her about any kind of Watertribe dance; two ways in which she is quite literally out of her element.

As the party dances on in a spellbinding synchronized weave, the yacht begins rocking a little harder now, swaying with more effort than it had in hours past. The waves begin churning stronger and stronger as the people waltz about, big smiles, happy eyes, as Evera gets a full view of the gleeful party. She begins to wonder... Is this what happens when a large group of Waterbenders celebrate in the center of an ocean? Does the ocean dance along? 

I.J. has led her to the outskirts of the deck now, the bulk of the crowd before them and the guardrail of the sea behind. Feeling clumsy, Evera can’t help but keep her head down to her feet to focus on the steps, endlessly distracted by the carousel of fellow dancers, but I.J.’s piercing gold eyes do not move away from hers for one moment. He suddenly pulls her close, edging his lips right into her ear for a raspy whisper:

“Hey, it’s alright. Just follow my lead.”

The cellos and violas call out in the bridge of the song, and all the guests begin twirling their partners out; I.J. does the same to Evera, holding out his arm for her to gently wind away. She does, watching the line of partners to the left of her and to the right all reach their hands out toward the ocean guardrail and up to the sky. Evera does the same, and...

 **CRASH!**

A HUGE wave comes SPLASHING up the side of the yacht, just barely contained by the thin guardrails of the lower deck. While some of the seawater sprays down upon the guests in a tiny bought of rain, Evera watches in awe as the top edge of this wave continues curling up and around them with the spiral of the waterbender dancers. As they lockstep into another twirl, all of their hands are still up and guiding the rogue wave across the starboard bow of the yacht. They pass it from waterbender to waterbender, streaming it with the melody as if it was a part of the song. Evera stares in amazement; how beautiful!

I.J. grins with curiosity at his waterbender partner; he wonders if this could be her first ever Rain Dance?

He continues leading her around the border of the deck, sweeping her back and forth with the music. With most of the crowd distracted by the wave, which is now being ceremoniously bended around the bride and groom, he brings his lips to her ear once again.

“Are you the one they sent from Ba Sing Se?” He whispers to her, “I wasn’t sure the Dai Li had many waterbenders in their ranks.” 

“You’d be surprised.” Evera whispers back, “You must be I.J. Lee.”

“That’s me,” he says with that sly grin, continuing to waltz her around the dancefloor, “Listen. When dinner is served, we should meet in the back kitchen of the lounge inside. There are no guests allowed back there, no cameras, and the staff will be on break while these fat mole-cats eat.”

“When is that supposed to be?” Evera asks, noting the man’s intricately sewed headband lining across his forehead. She can see each delicate stitch in the embroidered Fire symbols as they disappear neatly under his thick locks of reddish-brown hair.

“It was suppose to be a half hour ago but these folks just won’t go inside,” He whispers again, “I guess I can’t really blame them, it’s a good party.”

Evera thinks, the couple continuing to saunter gracefully around the outskirts of the deck. She is still very taken with this dance, and the strange joy that came with the conformity of the steps, not to mention the water wave that continues to be passed above them from dancer to dancer. The quartet plays on, and even the cellist and violinists are now standing and swaying to their own song.

STOMP! Evera’s foot lands hard on I.J.’s shoe, causing them to slightly stumble out of place. She grits her teeth in apology.

“Come on, loosen up.” He whispers playfully, “You may be the stiffest waterbender I’ve ever danced with.”

“Sorry,” Evera pipes back sarcastically, “We don’t exactly do a lota’ dancing while we guard the Palace walls.” He shoots her back a cunning half-grin.

“In case you’ve forgotten,” He continues, “this Watertribe dance is about freedom. It’s a celebration of letting go, of accepting the changing tides as the best possible thing that can happen.” 

Evera thinks on this. Her eyes again fall on I.J.’s hand clasping gently over her own, the firered tape wrapped taught around his knuckles. 

She recalls the vision she had seen, and the other visions as well. She remembers the beautiful black-haired woman and the smolder in her eyes, the joy that Evera could feel emanating off of her.

I.J. spins her out again, her feet filled with confidence this time. She twirls about with poise, reaching her hand up just as they all had before. CRASH! Another series of waves come hurtling into the side of the yacht. Evera grins a very real, satisfied grin.

Pulling her back into his arms to fight the new sway of the ship, he draws her in a little too close; chest to chest, breath to breath, continuing to rock her back and forth. A deep, strange feeling of _something_ falls upon her; it pulls at her chest and tints a redness in her freckled olive skin. Her eyes meet I.J.’s sharpened stare again, the wind suddenly whipping all around them, lifting her thick braids and flapping at I.J.’s robes. A heaviness casts down upon them, and for a moment it feels as if he and Evera were alone in this vast sea, the only two standing on this grand stage of Chameleon Bay. 

They twirl around each other again and again, Evera freeing her hand to wave it up and around the humid ocean air. She closes her eyes in an attempt to enjoy this fleeting moment, thinking again of the visions Korra had bestowed upon her, hoping to make it last just a little longer.

And as she spins, a hint of darkness begins falling over the ship. The afternoon sun that had once poured onto the party is rapidly shrinking down into a murky shade. Is it just that my eyes are closed, Evera asks herself, or did someone just turn out the lights?

She opens her eyes to find **thick stormclouds** gathering above the yacht. I.J. brings her back in from another spin and saunters her into the bulk of the crowd, but with every step Evera takes, the clouds above them seem to grow thicker and thicker.

Camouflaged in the sea of couples now, I.J. glances around him with a grin, observing the mysteriously changing weather. The blackened clouds are closing in fast on the open yacht as the ballad plays on, reaching its final verse.

Spinning her one last time, he shifts his weight and suddenly throws Evera backwards. She grabs onto him in shock as he guides her down into a deep, low, passionate dip to the floor. Her knee kicks out; nose to nose, eyes to eager eyes again...

**BA-BOOOOM!**

A huge CRASH of thunder echoes above the party, and as if on cue, a torrential cloudburst of rain begins UNLOADING onto the deck in a DOWNPOUR. The song pauses; the guests stop their dancing, some laughing, some screaming, their eyes all turning up to the suddenly black sky. But not I.J.’s- his eyes stay down on Evera. He pulls her up from the dip, their clothes getting heavier by the second with the soak of the falling rain.

Evera looks around; did she do this? Did her Avatar powers summon the rain, or was it the force of all the dancers combined?

She frees her hands away from I.J. She was on a mission, after all, and knows that she must remain careful around such a stranger, especially one who’s helping in an investigation. She takes a look around at the chaos of the guests in the rain; the Water tribe families seem to be jovial and excited at the storm, but the Fire Nation partygoers are not so enthused. A fleet of bridesmaids surround the bride, bending a protective bubble shield around them to protect her exuberantly expensive dress. BOOOM! More thunder rolls in from the clouds.

As the water begins to build up at their feet, Evera catches her breath from their steamy tango and focuses it on the pooling water. She takes a heavy step out and closes her fists tight, curling her wrists up and out at the deck. The water all around them begins to **freeze** , suddenly turning the deck from a waterlogged yacht into a round rink of ice. Some of the Water Tribe guests love this; they run and skate their feet above the frozen deck and glide their partner around in a dizzying spin. But the majority of the party, especially the Fire families have had enough; they turn to carefully slide themselves across the ice and safely into the warm, dry interior of the dining lounge, away from the still-falling rain.

“That should hurry things along.” Evera says, turning back to I.J. as they watch the crowd very quickly thin out. He smiles again, his famous sly grin crossing over his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say THANK YOU for reading! This chapter is very special to me because a lot of Evera's whole story was based on a dream I had years ago, where a Waterbender and a Firebender were dancing on a boat. I always imagine them dancing to this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-tyfBcOS9I&ab_channel=VitaminStringQuartet
> 
> Thanks again to my loyal readers!!! <3


	11. The Godson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiding out in the back kitchen of the wedding reception, I.J. tells Evera everything he knows about Lo-Son Jae's disappearance, and hands over an important piece of evidence. He explains that he wants to help search for him even if it means venturing into the Spirit World. Evera then discovers something interesting and terrifying about I.J.

“Please thank Tuvo again for me,” I.J. begins, adjusting his seat on a nearby stack of milk crates. While the wedding party ate their bison-bull steak dinners (and their 5-tiered moonpeach cake dessert), the duo had found refuge in a back portion of the yacht’s empty kitchen, where they finally got some privacy. His hair, still damp from the fallout of the dance, casts over his shoulders nonchalantly. The tresses frame his ornate headband, dripping beads of cold rainwater down to the tile floor. “I knew it was only a matter of time before the Dai Li contacted me about all this, and I expected it to be much more... intimidating. You guys don’t have the greatest reputation in the Fire Nation.”

“The Dai Li isn’t what it used to be,” Evera quips back, “We’re not some evil culture police like we were a hundred years ago. We just want to protect Ba Sing Se these days, even if that means secret international investigations.” 

“Sure.” His voice is tinged with a hint of sarcasm. 

Evera glances out the nearby porthole window, watching the heavy rain beat rhythmically on the glass. The feeling of the earth-less hardwood swaying beneath her is strange and almost nauseating; yet the ship is weathering the still-passing storm quite well, and no one on the crew seems worried. She turns back to him.

“Tuvo mentioned you have information about Lo-Son Jae. Are you close with him?”

“He’s my godfather.” I.J.’s expression grows serious. “And a very close friend of my father’s. He disappeared awhile ago and we thought that he’d just gone into hiding, because of the email leaks and the hacks he did. The press really made his life a nightmare. But when he didn’t check in with his personal computer last week, it released a kill-switch email that was sent to me. The email had an audio file attached; it was a recording of him. And he sounded like he was in a lot of trouble.” 

He pulls a small plastic case out of his pocket, drying it off on the inside of his robe.

“Good thing I had it in the case. You never know, meeting out here in the open water and all.” He hands the case over to her with a sly grin, popping it open to reveal a mini flashdrive. “If a rogue waterbending Dai Li agent attacked me, I wouldn’t want it getting ruined.”

Evera smiles sarcastically.

“Careful, one wrong move and I’ll freeze that hair of yours. Make it snap right off like dry noodles.” She inspects the flash drive carefully. “What does Lo-Son Jae say in the recording?”

“I actually transcribed it,” He pulls out a small piece of paper folded inside his vest pocket and hands it over. “He says he’s been captured by the Si Wong Rebels, and that they’re forcing him to train their new recruits in advanced metalbending techniques. He said they tricked him, or violated some kind of deal they had or something, and that they’ve been moving him all around the Earth Kingdom. At the end, he kept on repeating that same phrase, over and over. I hope he hasn’t gone crazy.”

Evera scans down the transcribed page to read his desperate message:

 _“Please listen to me carefully, I don’t have much time. If you’re hearing this, it means I’ve been compromised. It means they violated the deal they made with me, they violated the deal! I should have been more careful, I should have been more careful! I shouldn’t have helped them at all! Listen, I’ve lost control of the situation. My Si Wong associates, they’re becoming more and more radicalized, they won’t listen to reason or facts. They said if I did what they told me, they would let me see Bruno again but I’m beginning to think it was all a lie! But I felt the truth in them, I really did... They were so kind at first, they gave me my own lab and big meals, they told me my work was saving the Earth Kingdom. But then it all changed. They’ve been forcing me to train the other Sandbenders here. They’re forcing me to do it. They blindfold me and move me around like some kind of secret package, I haven’t seen the sun in many weeks. Sometimes I can guess where I am, I can feel the desert sand beneath me, sometimes the granite stone of the Great Divide, and sometimes I’m in a truck with a metal hull, metal made in ZaoFu for sure. Listen, I can feel the iron in my blood growing weaker, I have to bargain for water and food. I’m so thirsty. I’m SO THIRSTY! I want to stay, I want to see Bruno again so I know I want to stay. It’s not time for me to go yet, I feel it. But please, meet me in the Spirit World! I go there every day, while the guards go pray at midday! Even the friendlier Spirits do not speak to me when I visit them anymore. I get trapped every time now, in the roots of the Tree of Time I get stuck! Please find me there!"_

Toward the bottom, Evera notes one last line: _“AND REMEMBER: WATCH THE POLES. WATCH THE POLES. PROTECT THE POLES, YOU MUST PROTECT THE POLES.”_

“The poles,” Evera says slowly, “does he mean the spirit portals?” The image of the Spirit Portal from her vision beams brightly in her mind.

“I think so, but I’m really not sure,” I.J. replies, “He is a very spiritual person. He’s always been able to meditate into the Spirit World, but I can’t. I think he’s losing it, I have a really bad feeling about the way he talks here, he’s absolutely manic. I was planning on maybe taking an expedition into one of the Portals, but then you guys called. All I know is that I wanna help get him back.”

“Who is Bruno?” Evera asks, examining the transcription closely.

“See, that part makes no sense. Bruno was his son, he passed away years ago.” I.J. shakes his head solemnly with a heavy sigh. “It was very sad, he was only five years old. My dad always told me that he wasn’t the same after Bruno’s death. But it happened before I was born.”

Evera folds up the transcription, tucking the flash drive inside. She slips them both safely into the pocket of her apron.

“Well thank you, this will be a huge help. I’ll pass it along to forensics, maybe they can track where and when this was recorded. I don’t know very much about the Spirit Portals, but if it turns out that’s the only way to talk to him, maybe we can arrange a little trip.” Evera eyes the door to the kitchen, thankful that no one has walked in on them so far. 

I.J. rises from his seat and saunters over to the half-empty pot of coffee on the broad silver counter. Someone had made the last batch in a hurry, the grounds spilled out everywhere like small blackened stars in a silver sky. He finds an empty mug and serves himself, the smell of the luke-warm blonde roast filling the kitchen. 

“Wow, bride’s dad’s paying for premium here,” I.J. remarks, “It’s Omashu Royal blend. Want a cup?”

“No thanks,” Evera replies softly, “I’m more of a tea girl.”

She watches carefully as I.J. points his trigger fingers beneath his ceramic mug, igniting a tiny yet powerful blaze to reheat the coffee. It wasn’t a normal flame; it was glowing pearly white like a blow torch, with small orange trimmings outlining it’s tiny dancing body. Within a few seconds, the cup was nearly boiling. 

Evera instinctually looks away; it could just be the bigoted ideas of her father, but she still feels something very uneasy about all Firebenders... how they play around with such a destructive element like it’s a child’s toy. Though she can’t help but be impressed with I.J.’s bending.

“So I’d also like to ask you a few questions about your writing.” Evera finds his golden gaze again. “I understand you’ve written a volume of bending books. The Advanced Bending Principals.”

I.J. smiles coyly.

“Ah, you’re a fan?”

“...No. Never read them.” Evera flatly says, “At least not yet. Our analysts are working their way through them. Can you tell me what they’re about, or why you wanted to write them?”

“Well,” I.J. begins, taking small sip of his coffee, “It started off as a project for both of us, Lo-Son Jae and I. We started translating a bunch of scribes that were found inside the Dragonbone Catacombs. The scribes basically told stories about powerful Firebenders who lived hundreds of years ago and the bending techniques they developed. Some of them had very rare abilities, like lavabending, or could control the color of their flame based on the alignment of their chi. Some of them could control the weather in their villages, make the winter’s snow evaporate before it even hit the airspace, keep their crops going all winter long, stuff like that. It was so interesting that I wound up writing about it.”

“That does sound interesting,” Evera crosses her arms in thought, “Are all of your books about Firebending?”

“Well,” He continues, “The ones I wrote are about Firebending. I kind of became a ghostwriter for the third book in the series. It’s mostly about Earthbending-- and Lo-Son Jae came up with all the techniques in that one.”

“He did? By himself?”

I.J. nods knowingly.

“He’s amazing. He took everything we read about in the scribes and applied them to his own Earthbending. He was already a great metalbender before, but this turned him into something else. He could grasp onto a spoon with his hand, and instantly know what part of the earth the metal was mined from. I don’t know if the Dai Li already knew this, but... he can do it with his head. Psychically.”

“He’s a _psychic_ metalbender?” Evera thinks on this, remembering what she had seen back in the rebel compound in the desert. She remembers Lo-Son Jae’s hand gently pressing onto the computer tower. “I didn’t really think that was possible.”

“He’s no ordinary hacker,” I.J.’s voice grows serious, “I’m surprised that it’s still a secret, but he never really wanted people to know. He knows a lot about computers, but he does most of his hacks by _metalbending_ into them. He can feel the circuitry with his bending, he can read the documents in the code without ever touching the keyboard. That’s why he has such a following. Well, that and his mission for the truth, even if it kills him. He may be the best metalbender alive.”

Evera remembers the man’s rail-thin frame inside the compound’s computer lab, wishing now that she had just found a way to break him out of his platinum prison. Though she was sure now that he wouldn’t have wanted to come willingly. She remembers the way he had devoured the peach she had given him, and the ambient glow of the monitors that lit up all around him like a fleet of shining blue comets.

“Thank you,” Evera says gently, “You’re doing the right thing by telling me all this. Just so you know, when I get back to Tuvo, I’m gonna tell him everything that you told me. So any holes in your story and we’ll find out.”

“I’m no liar,” I.J. says defensively, “I just want to get him home safe.”

“It’s just hard for me to wrap my head around,” Evera counters, “Have you personally seen him do any of this psychic metalbending?”

“Of course I have,” I.J. says, “And I can prove it. Because he taught me everything I know.”

“Everything you know about what?”

I.J. sighs heavily again. He puts down his coffee and eyes the kitchen door once more, careful to note that they were still very alone. He begins taking slow, purposeful steps toward Evera. She instinctually backs up away from him, but there is nowhere to go; her shoulders hit the wall, her head hits the porthole window, trepidation in her eyes. She quickly remembers that she hardly knows this man, this _Firebender_. He could burn her to a crisp if she isn’t careful, a part of her mind screams out. Outside the window just behind her ears, she can hear the wind howling and the storm billowing through; water too far away from her to bend. 

He takes one more step towards her, stopping just a few inches away from her face. She throws her arms up defensively, hands rigid in the waterbender's stance Song had taught her. Quickly studying the dampness of his hair, she realizes her threat to freeze it off was just an empty promise; she was the one who was frozen. 

Her eyes spot his piping hot cup of coffee resting on the counter... she tries to focus on it, but her thoughts have run off; she cannot get a grip. She cannot move her eyes away from him.

“Don’t be afraid, ” His voice falls to a whisper. “I just don’t want anyone out there to see.”

Evera swallows hard. Their eyes lock. But her voice does not shake.

“He taught you everything you know...about what?”

“About... this.”

He reaches up and pulls away his decorative headband to reveal: **A third eye tattoo** etching straight across his forehead, a sinful looking, rune-like symbol stained in black and red ink. 

Evera recognizes the infamous, unforgettable marking somehow; it pulls at the depths of her stomach, flashing a hot wave of dread that washes over her again and again as if the creepy symbol was targeting her from all angles. 

It was the symbol of the combustion benders!

“Please,” Evera whispers out, “Cover it up, please.”

I.J. backs away, a slightly hurt look crossing his face. He ties the headband back around his forehead, shielding the notorious symbol yet again. Evera straightens out her apron and breathes a strange sigh of relief. The room suddenly feels cramped and small; she wishes again that she had brought Sencha to the party. I.J. had been so disarming, almost charming, while they were dancing... and she knows she shouldn’t judge a person’s entire personality based on the element that they bend... but now all she could think about was getting off this damn boat. He was just the informant, after all, and her work here was finished. At least, that’s how she justifies it.

“I think I have everything I need,” She says quickly, starting towards the kitchen door, “I’ll be in Republic City next week for the Presidential debate. Maybe I’ll investigate the Spirit Portal there on my own. We’ll keep you informed if we hear anything about Lo-Son Jae’s whereabouts.” 

“Wait—“ 

It was too late; Evera slips out the front kitchen door. I.J. paces after her, but emerging from the kitchen he finds only a sea of wedding guests, happily dancing and drinking their expensive wines, filling every inch of the lounge with boastful laughter and song. His mysterious waterbending dance partner was gone; and now he was the only man left standing still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much again for reading! Stay tuned for next week, where Guru Jinora speaks with Evera about her long-lasting friendship with Avatar Korra, and her thoughts on her mysterious death. With Evera's latest assignment to tag along as extra security detail for the Presidential debate, her and Song venture off to Republic City to stay at Air Temple Island.


End file.
